


blame it on the night

by catteo



Series: it must be fate, i found a place for us [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, the club au strikes again, the dancing gets a little out of hand, trip is still the greatest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:31:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3467714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/pseuds/catteo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The <i>Club Hydra</i> AU continues. There are shenanigans on the dancefloor. Need I say more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was just supposed to be a quick little AU. I hate myself sometimes.

Punching Grant turns out to be a mistake. The shock of it explodes across her hand and vibrates all the way up her arm. Grant, for his part, chokes out a shocked huff of air and puts a hand to his stomach, curving over slightly so he’s no longer towering above her, before letting out a strangled cough. As he turns his face towards her, Skye realizes that he’s actually laughing, and it’s the last thing that she expected. She shakes out her right hand by her side, massages the knuckles with the fingers of the left, and lets a small amused exhale of her own.

 

 

 

 

 

“I have to say, I was not expecting that.” Grant’s voice is slightly hoarse, the words coming out between coughs of laughter. His face is suddenly in alarmingly close proximity to hers and she can see the fine line of a long-healed scar across his right cheekbone, almost hidden by the scattered freckles that dust his skin. Her treacherous fingers once again make it known that they’d really like to spend some time exploring his body;to seeif his stubble would burn as it slid across her skin. Skye reins her wayward thoughts in with some difficulty. Grant smells insanely good -- cinnamon and spice -- and Skye decides that all this is nothing more than good old-fashioned hormones raging out of control. Probably pheromones. She’s heard they can be trouble.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah, well, let’s be honest. You deserved it.” Skye’s aiming for lofty, but for some reason it sounds more as though she’s trying to justify herself. Which, for the record, she absolutely is not. Grant was being insufferable and punching him was totally necessary. She just wishes her hand didn’t hurt quite so much. She’s not really used to doing this without wraps or gloves on. “Also, are your abs made out of steel or something? I mean, Jesus.” Skye holds her hand out in front of her so that she can inspect her knuckles. She tests the range of motion, clenching it into a fist, and is reassured to find that everything’s still in working order.

 

 

 

 

 

“I think there was a compliment hidden in there somewhere.” Grant’s recovered enough that he draws himself up to his full height. Which is tall. Really tall. It strikes Skye that he could probably rest his chin on her head if she wanted him to. Which she never would. Grant’s shoulders are now directly in her line of sight and Skye’s forced to admit to herself that she _would_ quite like to see him without a shirt on. For science. She realizes that Grant’s still speaking to her. “For that, I’ll get you some ice for your hand.”

 

 

 

 

 

Trip’s already got a scoopful of ice efficiently tied into a bag and is proffering it in Skye and Grant’s general direction. Grant takes it from him, ignoring the pointed look that he gets, and hands it to Skye with a flourish and a small bow. Skye rolls her eyes, but is somewhat mollified by the way that he winces slightly as he stands upright again.

 

 

 

 

 

“You should probably meet my sister.” Grant announces this in conversational tones, as though Skye didn’t just hit him in the stomach and this isn’t a completely random comment. Although, to be fair, it appears that she’s suffered more damage than he has. He’s probably used to getting punched though, with his approach to life.

 

 

 

 

 

“Why? Does she want to punch the smirk off your pretty face too?” Skye gives him an arch smile as she says it. There’s a flutter of something in her stomach at the way Grant’s features relax into a genuine expression of humor.

 

 

 

 

 

“You think I’m pretty?” He says it with a laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

“Shut up.” Skye can feel herself starting to blush under the scrutiny of his gaze. Electricity begins to sparkthrough her body at the promise in his eyes, and Skye’s suddenly sure that she’s in trouble here. She desperately tries to regain control of the situation. “Why should I meet your sister then?”

 

 

 

 

 

“Cause you’ve got a pretty mean right hook, and she could do with learning a few moves.” Grant’s smile falters then, and Skye wonders what piece of the story she’s missing.

 

 

 

 

 

“Again, I ask, moves to use against you?” Skye’s determined not to fall into the trap of deciding that Grant’s actually a decent guy. With looks like his, and the way her body’s practically screaming its demands at her, she knows that he can be nothing but trouble.

 

 

 

 

 

“Not exactly.” Grant pauses, looks at her intently, eyes glinting gold and amber in the lights of the bar. “That was her ex you just had a close encounter with.”

 

 

 

 

 

“I see.” Everything suddenly slams into place for Skye. “So I was just your excuse?” Skye’s not sure if it makes her feel better or infinitely worse about her reaction.

 

 

 

 

 

“Not at all. I wanted to kill him entirely on your behalf I assure you. It would just have been an added bonus that I’d have been Rosie’s favorite brother forever.” Grant shrugs, as though he’s already secure in the knowledge that he _is_ the favorite brother. Skye’s never really had the certainty of family around her, and she feels a sudden pang at the way Grant’s face softens when he talks. “So, you know, technically I should be thanking you for giving me the excuse to inflict pain on him.”

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re welcome. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it.”

 

 

 

 

 

Grant’s laughter reverberates in the space between them, dances along her skin and takes up residence in her bones. Skye decides that perhaps he’s not as much of an arrogant bastard as she thought.

 

 

 

 

 

“I think my pride’s the thing that’s never going to recover.” Grant absentmindedly rubs a hand across his abdomen. Skye’s temped to ask him to lift his shirt so she can take a look. For bruises, obviously.

 

 

 

 

 

“Well, it’s not as though you didn’t have extra to spare. I’m sure you’ll cope.” Skye raises an eyebrow at him and manages to keep her hands to herself.

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re probably right.” Grant pauses and takes a sip of the drink that’s appeared at his elbow, as if by magic. He beckons Trip over as he gestures towards her and continues speaking. “Your hand okay?” The fact that he doesn’t appear to be remotely irritated with her is kind of intriguing.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah, I’ll survive.” The sting’s already settling and she hands Trip back the bag of half-melted ice with a grateful smile.

 

 

 

 

 

“You guys finished causing a scene?” Trip’s eyes are dancing with laughter and Skye feels a slight glimmer of embarrassment that she let Grant get so thoroughly under her skin. “Can I get you a drink so you can toast to a truce or something?”

 

 

 

 

 

“Or something sounds good.” Grant’s voice is quiet and Skye’s sure that she must have misheard. There’s no way he’s still interested after the stunt that she just pulled. It’s a shame really, now that she’s had the opportunity to actually talk to him, that he had to be such an ass with his opening gambit. “Sounds good.” Grant raises his voice as Trip indicates that he can’t hear over the sound of the music. Skye’s sure that it’s not disappointment that twists in her chest.

 

 

 

 

 

“Tequila it is then.” Trip smirks as he slams two large shots down in front of them. Grant opens his mouth, as though he’s about to protest. Skye catches Trip’s slight headshake and Grant’s rueful smile of acceptance. Grant picks up both glasses and turns, handing one to her.

 

 

 

 

 

“Second chances?” There’s a smile hovering at the edges of his mouth and his eyes dance with laughter and something else that Skye can’t quite put her finger on. It makes her skin burn under his gaze and she likes it. _Really_ likes it.

 

 

 

 

 

“Second chances.” Skye taps her glass to his and knocks the shot back without pausing. She relishes the harsh burn at the back of her throat, the tendrils of warmth that slowly unfurl through her limbs.

 

 

 

 

 

“You think your hand’s going to stop you from being able to dance?” Grant reaches for her glass and Skye does her best to ignore the way that his fingers brush her skin for slightly longer than she feels is strictly necessary. He turns his back to deposit both glasses back on the bar before turning and propping an elbow on the bar to allow him to lean up against it. He really needs to stop doing that because it’s definitely affecting her ability to focus.

 

 

 

 

 

“Why do you ask?” Skye’s torn between her desire to continue to make a point and her, well, _desire_ , if she’s honest.

 

 

 

 

 

“Well, you may have had a slightly valid point about the fact that I’ve scared off all your admirers. The least I can do is offer to make amends.” Grant pushes himself up off the bar and into the space which Skye is pretty certain qualifies as ‘personal’. She’s slightly alarmed at the realization that she doesn’t care. “I’d be honored if you’d dance with me.” He ducks his head to hers as though he’s spilling his secrets to her. His breath is hot on her neck and she shivers slightly, despite the heat.

 

 

 

 

 

“You’ve changed your tune.” Skye’s determined not to let him off easy.

 

 

 

 

 

“Only an idiot doesn’t know when he’s about to miss out on something amazing because he’s being a jerk.” Grant’s smile is utterly disarming. She’s sure that he’s just turning on the charm deliberately now, but her body remembers the feel of him pressed up against her, and she’s only human.

 

 

 

 

 

“So you admit you’re a jerk?” Skye arches an eyebrow at him, maneuvering so that she can look directly at his face as she says it. His grin only broadens at the insult and Skye’s heartbeat picks up the pace, racing to the rhythm of the bass that’s taking up residence in her blood. She wonders if he’d be able to feel it if he put his lips on her neck and sucked gently at the pulse that’s hammering under her skin.

 

 

 

 

 

“Only if you’ll admit you’re amazing.” Grant’s eyes are locked on hers and Skye can feel the promise of something more hovering in the air between them. She’s sure that he must be aware that it’s pretty much the cheesiest line Skye’s ever heard. And she should know better. But she suddenly can’t remember why she ever thought that this was a bad idea, so she shrugs her agreement and holds her undamaged hand out to Grant.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Grant holds Skye’s hand slightly tighter than is strictly necessary as he leads her back to the dancefloor. He’s determined that he’s not going to let her get away from him this time though. The fact that he’s managed to convince her to dance with him feels as though it’s nothing less than a miracle. He thought that he’d blown this one for sure. The thing that’s really disturbing him, though, is that he thinks he would have genuinely regretted it if she’d walked out of the club and he’d never seen her again. The sensation is disconcerting, unfamiliar, and Grant doesn’t really know what to do with it. He slides smoothly between the mass of bodies, guiding Skye along with him, and stops when they finally reach the center of the room. Grant turns to face Skye and feels his pulse start to race as she slides closer than is strictly decent.

 

 

 

 

 

His mouth is dry, which is absurd. He’s not some hormonal teenager who doesn’t know how to handle himself around a woman, but Skye’s close enough that he can feel heat radiating off her body and, suddenly, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Skye doesn’t seem to be suffering from the same issue though, as she reaches out and takes his hands in hers, linking their fingers and lifting their joined hands up above her head. She grins at him before she spins so that her back is to him and pulls his arms down the sides of her body before letting go. Grant finds his fingers brushing the bottom of one of the panels of her dress, just a fraction above bare skin. Some part of him wonders if this is a test. The rest of him decides that it doesn’t much care and he slides his hands lower, finally curves his fingers onto the soft skin of her waist.

 

 

 

 

 

Grant feels Skye freeze for a moment, and he’s just about to move his hands back to the relative safety of the black fabric that they just left, when she takes a half step backwards, effectively eliminating the last of the space between them. It’s all the invitation Grant needs, as he slides his arms more securely around Skye, pulling her more firmly up against him. Skye rolls her hips against his crotch and Grant forgets to breathe. He tries to think about anything other than the way that Skye smells, how soft her skin is under his fingers, the way that her ass feels pushed up against him. His brain is a mess of white noise and he barely notices as the beat takes up residence in his chest, swirling through his veins. He lets his eyes slide closed and gives himself up to the sensations that engulf him.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Skye’s not at all sure that she should have said yes to any of this, a tiny voice in her head trying to tell her all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. The music drowns it out though, leaves her with nothing but the bass and the feel of Grant’s hand, warm as it envelops hers. She allows herself to be ushered through the press of bodies, the darkness slowly enveloping them, until Grant stops and turns to face her. She’s amused to see that he looks vaguely apprehensive, as though he’s not quite sure how he’s managed to end up here with Skye in tow. She’s determined not to let him get the upper hand though, and she steps a little closer, just to see how he’ll react.

 

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t even move. Which, frankly, Skye finds to be a little insulting. After all, he’s the one who asked her to dance, the least he could do is put in a little effort. Skye’s determined not to let him off lightly though, still smarting from the way that nobody else will go near her. She tells herself that none of this has anything to do with the fact that she really wants to feel his hands on her skin. This is a dance, nothing more than that. It’ll be over in less than four minutes and then they can go their separate ways. Maybe she’ll give Trip her number, she’s sure that would piss Grant off. Skye absentmindedly reaches for Grant’s hands, determined to get him to loosen up long enough for them to have some fun at least. His gaze is intense, as though he’s trying to work up the courage to say something, but Skye’s not interested in any excuses, and she spins so that her back’s to him, pulling his hands to her hips.

 

 

 

 

 

Skye’s not really sure what she expected, since her body’s been trying to tell her for about an hour that she should really get herself back into a position where Grant’s hands are touching her. The second his fingers touch her skin she knows that she has seriously underestimated the intensity of whatever this _thing_ is that she’s feeling. For a split second she considers running for the door and never looking back, but Grant increases the pressure on her skin, as though he knows what she’s thinking, and she wonders what else he’ll just intuitively know about her. She decides that she really wants to find out. Skye takes a small step backwards, feeling the heat of Grant’s presence along the length of her spine, relishing the weight of his body behind her.

 

 

 

 

 

Long fingers slide across the bare skin at her waist and Skye’s suddenly unreasonably glad that she decided to wear this dress. Grant pulls her slowly backwards, until she’s pressed flush against him, and she lifts her arms and lets the music swallow her, stripping her bare and leaving her with nothing but the beat and the anchor of Grant’s arms. Skye feels the moment that his breath hitches as she grinds her hips backwards, his fingers tightening at her waist, and she barely suppresses a grin of triumph.

 

 

 

 

 

“Skye.” Grant’s voice is rough, lower than she remembers, and heavy with desire. She feels it low in her belly, a spark that flares inside her. “Skye, turn around.” It doesn’t even occur to her not to, that this might be the point of no return for them both. All she knows is that she can feel the need in his voice, vibrating in her chest, and her body responds without a second thought. She turns, slowly, and forces her gaze up to meet his. In the pulses of light that flash around them she can see that his pupils are blown, dark with desire, his intentions so clear that her pulse skitters unevenly against the skin under his fingers.

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you not want to dance any more?” Skye has to stand on her toes to murmur it in his ear and she allows her lips to brush against his neck before she pulls away. Her lipstick leaves a dark crimson stain on his skin, and the surge of satisfaction that Skye feels at leaving a visible mark of her presence on his skin is unexpected.

 

 

 

 

 

Grant shakes his head as Skye sinks back onto her heels, just the barest hint of a smile on his face. She can feel herself starting to blush under the scrutiny of his stare and wonders what it is that he finds so fascinating. She worries that maybe he can see the truth that she takes such care to hide under her layers of bravado. She’s about to start freaking out when she feels one of his hands start to move, sliding up her side with agonizing slowness. She’s sure that her skin actually burns under his touch, his fingers dragging blistering heat with them as they drift across her body. Skye feels his thumb brush along the swell of a breast before he slides his hand up her neck to tangle his fingers in her hair. He pulls slightly, tilting her chin up towards him, and Skye watches, mesmerized as he ducks his head towards her.

 

 

 

 

 

Then his lips are on hers and the rest of the world simply ceases to exist for her. Grant’s rougher than she expected, his mouth insistent and tongue demanding. He tastes of tequila and _want_ and _need_ and Skye hooks her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, pressing herself along every inch of his body. Every time his tongue slides against hers she feels a surge of desire and she wonders how far she can push this, here, in the middle of his club.

 

 

 

 

 

Skye runs her hands across Grant’s shoulders, dimly noting the promise of strength held there. She can feel him smiling against her mouth and she bites down firmly on his lower lip. He growls against her lips, a noise that she feels pulsing through every nerve in her body, before sliding one of his hands lower to cup her ass. She knows that she’s playing a dangerous game here, and that this is getting rapidly out of hand. The problem is that she’s not sure that either of them actually cares.

 

 

 

 

 

Skye tries to ignore the fact that she can feel her cunt growing damp with desire, and concentrates instead on the very obvious effect that her actions are having on Grant. She can feel the length of his cock, firm against her thigh where he holds her against him, and she rolls her hips against him, gratified by the groan her actions rip from his throat. Her hands are on the small of his back now, and she dips her fingers lower, snaking them beneath the waistband of his suit pants. Grant slams his mouth back against hers, the scrape of teeth on her lips just shy of painful, and she retaliates by drifting one hand along his belt, until it hits the cool metal of the buckle, before sliding her palm down and dragging it lower, until she reaches the bulge where his cock is starting to strain against his pants. Suddenly she’s gasping in nothing but cold, empty air as Grant pulls his head abruptly away from her.

 

 

 

 

 

“So, you done with dancing then?” Skye does her best to disguise the fact that she’s practically gasping for air, tilts her head and throws every ounce of self-confidence that she can muster behind her words. She’s suddenly inexplicably terrified that Grant’s about to turn and walk away.

 

 

 

 

 

“Not even a little. But the kind of dancing I’ve got in mind probably shouldn’t happen in front of a couple of hundred other people.” Grant’s voice shakes slightly, and Skye’s absurdly relieved that she’s not the only one having trouble getting herself under control. “Can I interest you in a tour of my office?” His smile holds a promise that Skye has every intention of collecting on.

 

 

 

 

 

“Does it have a couch?” Skye figures that groping the man in the middle of club probably allows her a little leeway with the suggestive comments.

 

 

 

 

 

“Two. And a view of the dance floor.” Grant’s grin is positively indecent.

 

 

 

 

 

“Perfect.” Skye grabs hold of his hand with hers. “Lead on.”

 


	2. everything is changing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing club AU. In which Skye makes it into Grant's office. Which kind of freaks him out. Skye doesn't really help with the whole calming him down thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to God they were supposed to bang in this chapter. THEY JUST WANT TO TEASE EACH OTHER. I am so sorry.

It occurs to Grant, as he leads Skye through the crowd, that he probably shouldn’t be taking her up to his office. As a general rule it’s off limits to everyone but family and a few of his most trusted friends. But the pleasure he gets from feeling Skye’s fingersstill linked firmly with his is unfamiliar, and he glances back at her, relieved to see that she’s still wearing a smile that’s half challenge and half enthusiastic anticipation. He can’t quite explain why it is that he’s suddenly flustered. He gets an unbidden flashback to the first time he ever kissed a girl -- nervous excitement and expectation fluttering in his stomach -- and he wonders how, after all the girls since then, Skye has managed to make him feel as though she’s the first. Grant feels Skye squeeze his hand and, almost reflexively, he pulls her a little closer, tries to shield her from the press of bodies that surround them.

 

 

 

 

 

As they finally reach the foot of the stairs that lead to his office, Grant catches sight of Trip. His friend is wearing an expression of amused disbelief, and Grant can see his eyes rolling even from this distance. He smirks with a degree of bravado that he doesn’t honestly feel, before turning the corner and losing Trip from view. As Grant leads Skye up into the relative quiet of the back corridor he has the realization that she’s the first girl to even make it past the bottom step and he comes to an abrupt halt. There’s a muffled exclamation from Skye as she barrels straight into his back.

 

 

 

 

 

“Think you could give a girl a heads up before you turn into a statue next time?” Skye’s barely reigning in her laughter and her eyes dance with humor as he turns to face her. She untangles her fingers from his and puts her palms on his chest, gently pushing him backwards and on towards the next flight of stairs. “What’s the matter, you worried you’ll be a disappointment?” She arches a single eyebrow at him.

 

 

 

 

 

“Skye…” Grant’s not really sure how to put into words that being a disappointment is _exactly_ what he’s worried about. Skye’s the first person he’s met in as long as he can remember who seems to be entirely her own person. He doesn’t want her to look at him and see nothing but a cliché, with a list of conquests longer than it should be, and the public façade that he uses to keep everyone at arms length. In the end he doesn’t manage anything more than the ghost of a smile and a one-shouldered shrug.

 

 

 

 

 

“Relax. I can take care of myself, remember?” Skye stops pushing him, tilts her head to one side and steps closer, sliding her hands around his waist before resting them in the small of his back. “Don’t tell me this is a first for you, Grant, taking a girl up to your office for some fun?” Skye draws random patterns on his back with one finger, her hand skating lower with every second that passes. He shivers slightly, despite the warmth of the air, goose bumps springing up across his skin as Skye tilts her face to his. “Besides, you promised me a tour of your couch, remember?” Her breath is hot on his neck and Grant realizes he’s being a complete idiot. If there’s any girl on the planet who knows her own mind, it’s this one, sliding her tongue across the strip of skin above the collar of his shirt and sucking gently on the skin that barely hides his racing pulse.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m pretty sure it was a tour of the office…” Whatever he was about to say next completely escapes him as Skye bites down on the skin of his neck hard enough that he’s sure it’ll leave a bruise. Usually he’s so careful to make sure that nobody leaves their mark on him but, in a turn of events that he doesn’t fully understand, he finds that he couldn’t care less. If anything, he’s relieved that Skye’s surveying her handiwork with a smirk, and looking up at him with a barely disguised challenge in her eyes. “You’re not playing fair.” His voice is unsteady and he slides a hand under Skye’s jaw, almost surprised when she leans into him.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m not _playing_ at all. This is as serious as I get, Casanova. Now, are you going to take me up to your office or do you need some more motivation?” Skye starts to slide her hands along Grant’s belt, her fingers dipping beneath the leather in search of skin. Heat drifts across his waist, following her fingers, and warmth pools in his stomach as Skye gives him a lazy grin.

 

 

 

 

 

“No, I think I’ve got just about all the motivation I need thanks.” Grant’s acutely aware of where Skye’s hands are situated, fingers hooked in his front belt loops and thumbs skimming down either side of his fly. His dick twitches slightly in anticipation and Grant’s halfway up the stairs before his brain even registers what’s happening. He can hear Skye chuckling behind him above the clatter of her heels on the stairs.

 

 

 

 

 

Grant pushes the door open, and immediately remembers why his office is usually off-limits. There’s a mostly full bottle of tequila on the desk, accompanied by a carefully sliced lemon composed in the shape of a smiley face, a small saltshaker standing in for the nose. It leaves him in absolutely no doubt as to Trip’s movements whilst he and Skye were occupied on the dance floor. He covers the distance in three long strides but, if the cascade of laughter that follows him across the room is anything to go by, doesn’t quite make it there in time to stop Skye from seeing Trip’s handiwork.

 

 

 

 

 

He’s not sure if he’s firing Trip or giving him a raise after all this.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Grant’s office is nothing like the minimalist chic with expensive black and white photos of supermodels adorning the walls that Skye expected. In fact, it’s basically the opposite. She sees well-worn furniture, a couple of couches that lookmore comfortable than Skye’s bed, and assorted photos of grinning faces with enough similarity to Grant’s that she assumes they’re his family. Trip and Grant give her a thumbs-up from a photo sitting on the desk, right next to a smiling face composed entirely of lemon, looking so like the identical cheesy grins in the picture that she immediately gets the giggles.

 

 

 

 

 

“Trip.” Grant says it with a shrug, as though that’s really the only explanation needed, and starts dropping the wedges of lemon into a glass. “I need to change the locks. Or get a lock. Perhaps that would be a sensible place to start.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Locks are overrated.” It slips out before Skye has a chance to fully consider the implications of her statement. The way that Grant’s head whips around to look at her, a mixture of disbelief and humor battling in his expression, suggests that he’s in no doubt as to the sentiment behind her words. Skye gives her best nonchalant shrug, trying valiantly to ignore the blush that she can feel spreading across her cheeks, and resumes her study of the photos on the walls. “Any decent person would knock first.” Skye’s fairly proud of her recovery, but she’s certain that her words will probably come back to haunt her. Grant doesn’t seem like the type to forget something like that in a hurry. “Is this your sister?” Skye changes the subject and gestures to a photo of a girl beaming out at her, dark curls framing a face alight with laughter.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah, that’s Rosie. Three summers ago.” Grant’s voice gets louder as he approaches. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen her smile like that.” Skye turns to look at Grant, surprised at the tone of regret in his voice.

 

 

 

 

 

“She’s beautiful.” Skye can feel the heat of Grant’s body as he positions himself beside her and she finds herself inexplicably shy. The relatively bright lights of the office are a world away from the heaving darkness of the club, and Skye’s beginning to wish that she’d just kept to her original plan of slamming Grant against a wall the second they got through the door.

 

 

 

 

 

“She is.” Grant’s silent for a moment, a shadow drifting across his features, and Skye wonders if he’s thinking about Bakshi and whatever he did to Rosie that’s inspired such loathing. She sees the moment that his features relax as he turns to face her. “Trip has the most enormous crush on her.” Grant’s grin as he confides this to her is infectious, innocent delight that transforms his face.

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh, really?” Skye feels oddly as though she’s being let in on some confidence that she doesn’t really have a right to know. She tries telling herself that she only just met this guy, and that he annoyed her enough that she decided punching him was the only way to go. She doesn’t want anything more from him than whatever tonight brings. Unfortunately her brain then helpfully supplies her with a rapid succession of images that make her wonder if it would be such a bad thing to find herself a part of this world.

 

 

 

 

 

“Mmhmm.” Grant nods at her. “My brothers and I have a wager on how long it’s going to take him to man up and tell her about it. Thomas thinks he’s got it in the bag, but I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

 

 

 

 

 

“I bet you do.” Skye’s fairly certain that Grant isn’t really the type to play fair. A suspicion that’s only further confirmed when moves back to the desk and grabs the bottle of tequila that Trip has helpfully left for them. He doesn’t bother to ask her this time, just pours two large shots and gestures her over. Skye decides that it’s past time to take control of the situation, and grabs a wedge of lemon and the saltshaker from the desk.

 

 

 

 

 

“Well, I really do hate to lose.” Grant narrows his eyes at her as he says it, clearly aware of the fact that she’s up to something, but not entirely sure what. He picks up both shot glasses, holding one out to her, and Skye catches her lower lip between her teeth, trying to suppress a smile. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes darken as she steps closer, the lust she sees in his expression causing a delicious tendril of anticipation to snake up her spine.

 

 

 

 

 

“That makes two of us.” Skye reaches up and pops open another button of Grant’s shirt. She can see his breathing quicken as she slides a finger under the collar, pulling the cotton away from his skin. There’s a brief moment where Skye realizes that this is almost certainly a win-win scenario after all. She hears Grant say her name, a choked whisper, as she pushes herself up onto her toes and licks slowly along the pulse she can see hammering above his collarbone, just above the slowly purpling bruise she left earlier. Satisfaction surges through her at the sight. Grant doesn’t move an inch, but Skye sees three drops of tequila hit the floor as his hand shakes slightly when she steps away from him. She carefully shakes a line of salt across Grant’s neck before holding the lemon wedge up in front of him.

 

 

 

 

 

"So that’s how it is.” Grant’s eyes are almost completely black now, pupils blown despite the bright lights of the office, just a rim of whisky-gold visible. Skye feels as though she’s burning up under his gaze, liquid fire dancing in her veins.

 

 

 

 

 

“That’s how it is.” Skye echoes. “You still want to play?” She can hear the desire in her own voice, feel her heartbeat hammering against her ribcage as she looks up at him. Grant doesn’t answer, just licks his lips before opening his mouth wide enough for her to slip the lemon between his teeth. Skye hasn’t done this in years, doesn’t really know what’s gotten into her, but Grant’s eyes follow her hand as she reaches for one of the glasses and the look on his face promises that this is going to be worth her while.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Grant is almost certain that he stops breathing as Skye braces herself with one hand against his hip and leans back in to lick his neck for the second time. Her tongue is soft on his neck, a steady pressure that makes him want to feel her teeth and hands on his skin. She pulls away, and cold air drifts across the damp patch of skin she leaves, adding to the goose bumps that have already erupted across his body just at Skye’s touch. They never break eye contact as she knocks the shot of tequila back in one and then snakes her hand around the back of his neck and lifts her mouth to his.

 

 

 

 

 

Their lips barely brush, and he gets nothing more than a tantalizing taste of her as she sucks the lemon dry, pulling away from him with it clenched firmly between her teeth, a sunshine-yellow smile that makes his breath catch. Skye deposits the wedge of peel into her shot glass and grins up at him, a suggestive look on her face. Grant knows that she expects him to mimic her actions, but he’s had enough of waiting, and he simply brings the glass to his mouth and swallows the tequila in one smooth motion. The liquor simply adds kindling to the fire that’s already blazing in his gut, and Skye’s expression of surprised approval is basically nothing more than a match.

 

 

 

 

 

Grant only has to take a single step to close the gap between them, and then his hands are back on her skin, fingers sliding around her waist as though they belong there, the shot glass dropping, unnoticed, to the floor. Skye’s reaction is gratifying, a small moan escaping her as her hands grip his shoulders, and she murmurs his name just before he claims her mouth with his own. Her breath is salt-sweet, hot as it mingles with his, and her tongue slides across his as he pulls her closer.

 

 

 

 

 

He skates one hand up her side, his fingers drifting across bare skin then satin, then more skin, a tantalizing patchwork that makes him want nothing more than to remove all the barriers between them. Grant skates his palm over the swell of a breast, swallowing down the gasp that Skye makes as he thumbs her nipple through the fabric, before dancing his fingers across her collarbone and up. He slides his hand around to cup the base of her skull, tilting her head for a better angle. The way that Skye groans into his mouth makes his already half-hard cock stiffen, and Grant’s sure that Skye must be more than aware of the effect she’s having on him.

 

 

 

 

 

No sooner has the thought crossed his mind than he feels Skye’s touch at his waist, untucking his shirt and slipping her hands underneath it. Grant can barely think straight as her fingers trace light circles across his skin and, as she gently scratches her nails from his shoulder blades to the small of his back, he shivers. He’s almost certain that he lets out a completely undignified moan of dissatisfaction as Skye pulls her mouth from his, but then she’s sucking a slow path across his neck, pressure and heat alternating with cool air, and he thinks that she’s trying to drive him insane. Skye’s hips grind up against him, an exact duplicate of her moves from earlier, making his dick throb, and this time he _knows_ her actions are too precise to be anything other than deliberate.

 

 

 

 

 

He’s aware that he’s more than a little rough as he pulls her mouth back up to his, but Skye simply responds in kind, the pressure of her nails just the right side of painful. She’s all teeth and tongue and eager hands and Grant has a sudden moment of clarity where he realizes that he’s never wanted anyone like this in his entire life. He’s about to open his mouth and gift this information to Skye, but she’s somehow used his moment of distraction to her advantage, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his fly, and she palms his dick through nothing but his boxer briefs. She barely touches him, just the slightest squeeze of her hand, but it’s almost more than he can handle, electricity sparking along every nerve ending. Then Skye increases the pressure and drags her hand up towards the sensitive tip of his cock, and this time Grant’s the one tearing his mouth from hers and gasping for air. Skye’s not so easily distracted though, keeps her hand firm on his dick even as he tries to take a step backwards.

 

 

 

 

 

“Skye, wait, I want…” He finally manages to focus enough to grasp her wrist and move his hips away from the danger of her skilful hands. The rest of his sentence, some half-formed thought about how he needs to feel her fall apart under his tongue before they do anything else, is lost as he stumbles against a table and everything on it crashes to the floor. “Fuck.” He surveys the chaos with irritation, momentarily distracted from the aching pressure in his pants.

 

 

 

 

 

“That’s where I was going with this, but you had to be a hero.” He turns to see Skye, standing with one hand clapped over her mouth, eyes bright with laughter. Her shoulders heave twice as she clearly struggles to get herself under control. “Did we sink your battleship?” Skye gestures towards his feet, where pieces of the game lie scattered, before dissolving into a fit of giggles. She’s beautiful, her hair strewn wildly across her shoulders, eyes crinkling in amusement, and Grant abruptly realizes that he very much wants her hands all over him. He has no idea where his usual suave demeanour has vanished off to and why he wants so desperately to hear her screaming his name. Usually he doesn’t even care if the girl knows his name before he leaves in the morning. “What’s the matter, too distraught for words?” Skye punctuates her words with hiccups of laughter, taking a step closer as she does.

 

 

 

 

 

“No, it’s okay. I’m pretty sure I was losing that round anyway.” Grant suddenly finds his voice. He’s fairly certain that it doesn’t usually sound like this, low and raw with desire, but he doesn’t care any more. “At least this way I can blame it on the beautiful girl who couldn’t keep her hands off me.” Grant’s suddenly aware that he’s standing in his brightly lit office with his fly undone and his erection straining against the black cotton of his underwear. Skye, on the other hand, could walk out of here without even needing to smooth down her dress. He rapidly divests himself of any notion that he may have been gaining the upper hand in this exchange.

 

 

 

 

 

“Hmm. I see.” Skye raises her eyebrows at him, but her voice is still rich with laughter. “You going to tell whoever you were playing that this _beautiful girl_ was using her hands to punch you for being an ass?”

 

 

 

 

 

“Now, Skye, why would you feel the need to remind me of the harsh circumstances surrounding our first meeting?” Grant swallows hard as Skye closes the distance between them by another inch. He wants her to touch him again so badly that he can taste it. Somehow he manages to keep his tone light as he continues. “So much has changed since then. I’m practically a different person.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh is that right?” Skye reaches out her hand and, very deliberately, places her index finger on the exact point on his thigh where she pinched him earlier in the evening. He tries not to move as she increases the pressure, despite the fact that his dick is trying to communicate to him in no uncertain terms that he needs to stop talking and start moving.

 

 

 

 

 

“Absolutely.” Grant fights to keep his voice steady. “Somebody very smart pointed out that the early edition of Grant Ward was an idiot.” He stays absolutely motionless as Skye’s finger starts to move slowly upwards.

 

 

 

 

 

“She sounds very wise.” Skye leans in and presses a light kiss on his jaw. “Although it’s kind of a shame because that idiot did have some merits.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh yeah?” The last word comes out in a gasp as Skye scrapes her finger along the underside of his dick.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah. And he promised me a dance.” Skye murmurs it against his lips, before licking up into his mouth, and biting down hard on his lower lip. Grant reaches for her, but suddenly Skye’s half way across the room and he’s left holding nothing but empty air.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Skye doesn’t wait to see if Grant will follow, simply turns and heads over to the glass wall that lines one side of the office. The glare from the lights in the office stops her from being able to see much of the floor below, but she briefly sees Grant’s reflection, turning towards the wall, before they’re plunged into darkness. A sea of people drifts below them, undulating around the dance floor, hands and arms punctuating the surface like the crest of a wave. Skye presses her palms up against the glass and feels the bass whispering under her fingers.

 

 

 

 

 

She feels the heat of his body behind her a moment later, sees movement from the corner of her eye as one of his hands slides over hers where it rests on the glass. He shifts his hand, twining their fingers together, and Skye wonders if he can feel the beat of the music dancing across her skin. Grant’s body is a heavy presence at her back, and she forces herself to stand motionless, waiting for him to make the next move.

 

 

 

 

 

Her eyes slide closed as she feels the heat of his breath on her neck, his body curving over her as he pulls her hair out of the way with his free hand, and brushes a gentle kiss below her earlobe. Skye feels her fingers tighten on his as she loses herself to the sensation of his mouth on her skin. She can feel her pulse racing as Grant steps slightly closer, the collar of his shirt scratching against her bare shoulder. His teeth nip gently at her skin and Skye can’t quite manage to smother the gasp that escapes as her eyes snap open.

 

 

 

 

 

Grant slides his fingers through her hair, and she can feel him twisting the strands around his hand before he pulls gently, tilting her chin towards him so that he can run his tongue across her lower lip. Skye strains towards him, but his grip on her hair is firm, and all it gets her is the whisper of a laugh as he licks a path down her neck. Skye’s sure that he’s mimicking her actions from earlier, and she doesn’t know if she should be impressed at his attention to detail or irritated that he’s stopping her from getting her mouth on his skin.

 

 

 

 

 

Abruptly Skye finds herself able to twist slightly towards Grant as he releases his hold on her hair. Her desire is a solid warmth that floods her body, settling in her belly. As she moves she feels Grant’s cock, firm against her hip, and a jolt of anticipation shoots straight to her clit. She’s aware that her underwear is damp with her own need, the heavy scent of her arousal drifting in the air. Grant’s mouth his hot on her own, his tongue insistent, but the hand linked with hers remains steadily pushed against the glass.

 

 

 

 

Skye’s desperate to move, trying to twist herself so that she can get some friction where she wants it most, but Grant just chuckles at her efforts.

 

 

 

 

 

“I thought you wanted a dance, Skye.” His voice is barely more than a whisper in her ear, but her body responds to the promise hidden in the words, liquid gold pooling in her blood.

 

 

 

 

 

“Honestly, I’m starting to think that there are better things we could be doing with our time.” Skye’s breath catches on the last word as Grant slips his hand down the length of her body, only stopping as he reaches the hemline of her dress. She can hear his breathing speed up, a mirror of her own, as he slowly slides his palm under the fabric, and up the bare skin of her thigh.

 

 

 

 

 

“You let me know if I come up with some moves you enjoy.” Grant’s stubble is rough on her cheek as she lets her head fall back against him, exposing her neck to his mouth again.

 

 

 

 

 

“Not a problem.” Skye just about manages to gasp the words out before she feels Grant’s fingers brushing against the fabric of her underwear. She drops her head against the glass in front of her and tries to remember how to breathe as he slips his fingers under soaked cotton and pushes firmly against her clit. She’s just barely aware of the sensation of Grant’s teeth at her neck, a teasing slide of his tongue across her racing pulse, a direct counterpoint to the way hand moves to the tantalizingly slow rhythm of the bass, his fingers curving up into the wet heat of her body. Her eyes slide closed as Grant bites down on her shoulder, the pressure of his thumb against her clit making her cant her hips back against his. The low growl that he makes as her ass grinds against his dick makes heat pool at the base of her spine. Against the glass, his fingers are still linked with hers and grip her hand with a ferocity that tells her Grant’s as close to losing control as she is.

 

 

 

 

 

Grant slowly circles his thumb around her clit, fingers pushing more firmly into her as Skye reaches back with her free hand and pulls his hips roughly against hers. Grant’s fingers are agile, deftly moving against slick flesh, but Skye wants more, wants to feel his hands on her body and his mouth on her cunt. She forces her eyes open and drags in a shuddering breath. The world snaps into focus, the busy club coming into view below her. Skye grabs Grant’s wrist, somehow manages to pull his hand away from her, suppressing a moan of dissatisfaction as she does.

 

 

 

 

 

“Can they see us?” Skye can feel Grant’s chin on her shoulder, stubble scraping her skin, and knows that he can see the heaving dancefloor as easily as she. She feels the vibration of his chuckle down her spine, and he pulls their joined hands down to his side, sliding his other arm around her waist.

 

 

 

 

 

“Probably not. I mean, nobody called the cops when Trip and I murdered that guy in here in cold blood.” She barely pays attention to his words, her body responding to Grant’s voice, husky and ripe with promise. Skye almost gives in and lets him finish what he’s started, right here up against the glass wall overlooking his club. Skye’s brain slowly kicks into gear, registers what he said.

 

 

 

 

 

“Seriously?” Skye loads her voice with all the skepticism she can manage. It’s not easy to sound aloof with Grant’s erection firm against her hip, but she figures she’s doing pretty well under the circumstances.

 

 

 

 

 

“What, you don’t believe we’re capable of it?” He leans his head over her shoulder, so he can look at her, an exaggerated expression of innocence on his face.

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh no, I totally believe _you_ are.” Skye tries to ignore the look of triumph that crosses Grant’s features before she continues. “But not Trip. Trip’s obviously just a ray of pure sunshine. No way he’d let you talk him into something like that. I have no idea why he’s friends with you.” Skye smirks up at Grant as he starts to laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender. She uses his moment of inattention to turn so that her back’s to the glass.

 

 

 

 

 

“Me neither to be honest.” Grant’s face holds a curious mix of pride and genuine confusion. Skye wonders if there’s more to the story than she knows. “I suspect it may have something to do with Rosie though. Honestly, I don’t want to ask.”

 

 

 

 

 

“In case you’re right?” Skye pushes her bottom lip out in an expression of mock concern. Grant just stares at her for a long moment before reaching up and tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. She can taste herself on his skin and, suddenly, she feels as though there’s not enough air in the room.

 

 

 

 

 

“You got it.” Grant’s eyes darken, focusing on her mouth as she slowly sucks down on his thumb. Skye sees him swallow hard as she bites down gently, his throat working for a long moment before he finally speaks. “Now, can I get back to what I was doing?”

 

 

 

 

 

“You still haven’t told me if anyone can see us.” Skye mimics Grant’s actions of minutes before, sliding her fingers up his inner thigh, until he lets out a slow hiss of air between his teeth.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’ll switch on the privacy glass.” Grant’s voice catches on the last word, his body falling forward, his palm slamming against the glass, bracing himself as Skye, very deliberately, palms his balls through his pants.

 

 

 

 

 

“Don’t bother.” Skye grins up at him. “Let’s just move this to the couch. You did offer me the tour after all.”

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

And, well, Grant’s not exactly going to turn that down.


	3. baby i'm preying on you tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye finally gets that tour of the couch that Grant has been promising her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of this is my fault, okay? I just want you to remember that.

He’s got his mouth back on hers in an instant, his breath catching as Skye’s hand slides up the front of his pants, a firm pressure against his dick. He walks them both blindly backwards until his knees hit the edge of one of the couches. Grant just about has the presence of mind to get his hands under Skye’s ass before he collapses down onto the seat with her pulled firmly down onto his lap. He’s fairly sure that he whines as she pulls her mouth away from his. When he sees the delighted look on her face, her bright smile clear even in the dark room, he knows that not only did he whine, but that he’d happily do it again so that she’ll keep looking at him this way.

 

 

 

“Did you just make a really pathetic noise because I stopped kissing you?” Skye squirms on his lap as she says it, spreading her knees a little further apart and shuffling towards him so that she’s sitting pushed up against his open fly. He can feel the heat of her even through two layers of cotton, and it occurs to him that getting her underwear off should really be something that he makes a concerted effort to do.

 

 

“That is entirely possible, yes. Has anyone ever told you that you are really fantastic at kissing?” He’s not even joking. He’d probably be content to sit here and make out with her like horny teenagers for the next twenty minutes if it weren’t for the fact that Skye’s tilting her hips up against him, having clearly decided that things aren’t moving quickly enough for her liking.

 

 

 

“Actually they have. It’s something I pride myself on. Wrote it on my resume once…” Skye’s voice trails off as she deftly starts flicking open the buttons of Grant’s shirt. She drags the nail of her index finger down each patch of freshly exposed skin as she goes. By the time she hits the trail of hair below his belly button Grant’s struggling to breathe.

 

 

 

“What was the job?” Grant forces himself to relax his hands where he’s gripping Skye’s hips. Even through the cloth of her dress he’s pretty sure that he’s going to leave marks. He loves the idea, the sudden surge of desire at the thought of claiming her leaving him slightly off balance. He never wants to do this; he’s always so careful to leave no trace of himself behind as a reminder, no signs of a promise that he might return. With Skye, though, he wants to leave fingerprints and teethmarks imprinted on her skin. Grant realizes that he’s clearly turning into some kind of Neanderthal, but he’s desperate for everyone to know that, of the dozens of people she could have picked, she chose him. He feels kind of like a hero.

 

 

 

“Kissogram.” Skye leans back slightly to survey her handiwork before sliding her palms up his chest and slipping his shirt off his shoulders. She hums her appreciation as he balls his shirt up and blindly throws it towards the corner. Before he really knows what’s happening she scrapes her nails across his right nipple then ducks her head and sucks down hard. He’s pretty sure that his moan can probably be heard on the dancefloor as Skye pulls her mouth away from his skin. “I was in pretty high demand.”

 

 

 

“I have absolutely no doubt about it.” Grant threads his fingers through her hair, running a thumb around the curve of her ear, before pulling her mouth back down to his. Skye runs her hand upwards, across his shoulder and along his neck, mirroring the way his fingers caress her scalp. He wraps her hair around one hand, pulling Skye’s head to the side and licking slowly down the long line of muscle above her rapidly fluttering pulse. Skye groans her appreciation and the sound shoots straight to his dick. Skye doesn’t help his fraying self-control by choosing that exact moment to slip her hand under the waistband of his underwear and gently slide her fingers over the tip of his cock.

 

 

 

“Wait.” It comes out more like a plea than a command as he pulls his mouth away from Skye’s skin and grabs her hand with one of his. He looks up at her, grinning down at his wrecked expression with something akin to pure glee, and decides that he really needs to try and regain some semblance of control here. Skye cocks an eyebrow at him before lifting their joined hands to his eye level. She has to dip her head slightly to get to the correct height, her hips slipping forwards against him once again. He tries to stop himself from sighing her name and shifting against her, desperate for just a taste of friction, but he already knows he’s fighting a losing battle. He might just as well give in. He’s barely able to remember his _own_ name as Skye smiles before sucking two of his fingers firmly into her mouth. She never breaks eye contact and his brain inevitably conjures up an image of her perfect mouth circling his dick. He’s probably going to hell, but he figures that it’s going to be more than worth it.

 

 

 

He takes advantage of the fact that Skye’s attention is clearly elsewhere to run the palm of his other hand under her skirt and up her thigh until he feels cotton under his fingers. Skye releases his fingers from her mouth abruptly and he hears her inhale shakily as he runs his thumb over her damp underwear. She reaches out a finger to trace the curve of his mouth, her eyes huge in the semi-darkness as she feels her way around the edges of his smile. He moves his head so that he can gently bite down on the pad of her thumb before brushing a kiss against it.

 

 

 

Grant slides his hand upwards, listening for the moment that Skye’s breath catches as he reaches her clit. It’s utterly gratifying when her eyes drift closed and she sighs his name, her fingers gripping his shoulders as she cants her hips towards him. She’s the most mesmerizing thing that he’s ever seen and he can’t take his eyes off her. He can’t work out how to undo her dress so he just pushes her skirt up around her hips with his other hand as he continues to draw lazy circles over the fabric that covers her clit.

 

 

 

“Tease.” Her voice is soft, but he can hear the unspoken challenge in her tone. He laughs against her collarbone, presses a kiss to the soft expanse of skin that lies just above the neckline of her dress, before pushing her now soaked underwear to one side. He hisses out a breath as he finally slides his fingers across her skin, slick wet folds that he parts with his fingers.

 

 

 

“Better?” He murmurs it against her neck, before pulling away and looking up at her. Skye’s got her lower lip caught between her teeth, her head thrown back as she rocks forwards against him. He wishes that he could somehow capture this moment, the way that she shudders slightly against his hand and hums her approval. He bites down on the junction between her neck and shoulder, hooking his fingers up inside her. This time she’s the one moaning loudly enough that he feels the echo of it under his skin, a dizzying rush of satisfaction pounding in his chest.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

Skye feels as though she’s alight under his hands, tiny shocks of electricity skating up her spine every time that his fingers brush her skin. She knows that she’s gripping his shoulders too tight; she’s going to leave bruises, but she can’t seem to bring herself to care. Grant twists his hand slightly, pushing her panties more firmly to the side, allowing him to flick his thumb across her clit and push his fingers deeper inside her. Skye’s talking nonsense, a jumbled garble of words spilling from her mouth -- _Grant, please, fuck, more_ \-- until Grant silences her by sliding his tongue against hers, kissing her hard enough that her lips tingle.

 

 

 

Grant shifts her slightly on his lap, one hand sliding around the curve of her ass as he leans forwards. Part of her wants to reach down between them, slide her hand across the bulge of his erection, and make him gasp for breath. The rest of her never wants him to stop touching her. Grant clearly has plans though, pulling his hand away from her, leaving her huffing out a dissatisfied breath. She feels his fingers at the tugging at the waistband of her underwear and obligingly lifts her hips in order to let him drag them down her thighs. She has to lift one leg off the couch, steadying herself on his shoulder, to allow him to slip them off one foot, before settling back down onto his lap. He doesn’t stop staring at her, his eyes almost black in the dim light. The look on his face makes her breath catch, and she wonders if she should say something to get him to stop looking at her like she’s precious. But her mind goes blank as he presses his fingers firmly up inside her, leaving her breathless, light-headed, and desperate for more.

 

 

 

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” She’s proud of the fact that she actually manages to string a sentence together as he starts to pull his hand away. Skye’s not entirely sure that she should be feeling impressed with herself since she’s basically fucking down onto Grant’s fingers, but he beams up at her, delight written across his features, and she figures that a little praise never hurt anyone.

 

 

 

“You like that, huh?” The note of triumph she hears in his voice should be ridiculous, but she finds it worryingly adorable. She pushes the thought aside, deciding that she just deal with it later, and simply smiles.

 

 

 

“Now who’s not playing fair?” It’s pretty much all she manages to get out before his hand starts moving faster against her, just the right side of rough. She slumps forwards against him, her forehead dropping onto his shoulder before she presses a messy kiss against his jaw. His stubble scratches her cheek and she hums her approval as he pulls her closer. She’s sucking down onto his throat before she even really knows what she’s doing, adding enough pressure that she knows she's going to leave him with another dark bruise to explain away in the morning. She adds her teeth to the mix and the noise that she gets out of Grant is enough to make her cunt squeeze tight around his fingers.

 

 

 

Skye lifts her head slightly, just enough that she can watch Grant’s hand sliding into her, his fingers deftly pushing her closer to orgasm. She can feel it building at the base of her spine, her skin getting hotter, and fire building in her belly. Grant scrapes his thumb over her clit again and she comes hard and fast, clenching down onto his hand, her back arching and toes curling against the backs of his knees as she breathes out his name.

 

 

 

Skye all but collapses against him, loose-limbed and shaky, as Grant presses a kiss to her temple. There are tendrils of hair sticking to her shoulders, her skirt still bunched up around her waist and Grant’s fingers still gently moving inside her, coaxing her through the last of the tremors that run through her body.

 

 

 

“Huh.” As praise goes she suspects that it leaves a little to be desired. Grant doesn’t seem to mind though, just laughs softly into her hair and drifts his free hand up her back.

 

 

 

“Good ‘huh’, or bad ‘huh’?” His tone is teasing and she’s definitely not going to be drawn into giving him praise for something that, as far as she’s concerned, should be a basic skill.

 

 

 

“Excellent ‘huh’.” It’s out of her mouth before she manages to catch it and she’s glad of the fact that her forehead is still resting on his shoulder so that he can’t see the face she pulls at her own lack of chill. Skye reckons that she covers pretty well by sliding backwards and managing not to let out a groan of disappointment as his fingers slip out of her. She lifts her head and smirks up at him. “Your turn.”

 

 

 

“Whatever you say, Skye. I should probably clean up though.” Grant doesn’t break eye contact as he lifts his hand to his mouth and slowly licks her off his hand. Skye’s forced to admit to herself that the look on his face he does it, half challenge and half unrestrained glee, is one of the hottest things she’s ever seen in her life. She can’t stop staring at his mouth. This is really becoming a problem for her. She can see his throat working as he swallows, humming in satisfaction as he tastes her, and Skye realizes that she’s actually holding her breath.

 

 

 

“You done?” She means it to come out like a challenge, but it sounds alarmingly like begging, even to her own ears. Grant licks his lips and wipes his hand on the couch.

 

 

 

“Not even remotely.” He sounds so calm about the whole thing that Skye doesn’t even see it coming. Grant’s lying back along the couch, and sliding his hands under her thighs before she manages to work out that things are not going entirely as planned. She has a moment where she’s really enjoying the view, the lights from the windows highlighting the ridges of muscle across his torso, before she feels his hands under her legs. In one smooth movement he boosts her up the length of his body and she finds herself, skirt pulled up behind her, with Grant grinning up at her from between her legs, her cunt hovering just above his mouth. “It’s actually still your turn.”

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

Grant licks slowly up her cunt, savoring the taste of her, salt-sweet on his tongue. He snakes an arm over her thigh and spreads her open so that he can suck gently on her clit when he reaches it. Skye’s still just about managing to hover above him, clearly with every intention of maintaining some dignity, but then he adds his fingers to the mix and she pretty much loses her mind. Her thighs are tight on his cheeks and he’s sure that she’s going to have stubble rash there for days. She’s moaning his name and it makes him redouble his efforts, determined that she’s going to walk out of here completely incapable of forgetting him. He figures that if he’s only got one chance to impress her he’s going to make it count.

 

 

 

His tongue dips inside her and he feels Skye arching backwards, hips thrusting against his face. He tightens his grip on her, settling her more firmly against him, relishing the way that her fingers scratch frantically through his hair. His cock throbs with the pressure of withheld release, his own hips bucking against empty air, but the smell of Skye surrounds him and he has no intention of succumbing to his own desires before making her scream his name again. He can feel more than hear the noises she’s making, thrumming through his blood and along his bones, becoming a part of him. Grant’s sure that he’s never felt anything more perfect in his life.

 

 

 

Grant speeds up, licking hard and fast across tender skin, letting Skye’s movements guide his speed. He can’t help the growl of satisfaction that escapes him as she rocks forwards against his mouth, bracing herself with one hand against the arm of the couch. He can see her arm shaking from out of the corner of his eye, and he redoubles his efforts at the knowledge that she’s close. He scrapes his teeth against her clit and sucks down hard as he pushes two fingers up inside her. It’s not his name that she screams, rather a long stream of nonsense that he can’t even make sense of. Oddly, he’s not even particularly disappointed. She jerks her hips away from him, leaving him gasping against the empty air, the taste of her still filling his mouth.

 

 

 

Skye slides herself back down the length of his body, careful not to touch him, until her face is level with his. Her smile is slow, languidly drifting across her features, and Grant can’t even begin to describe the way that it makes him feel to know that he’s the one that put it there. He reaches up and slips a hand behind her neck, gathering up loose strands of hair and pushing them behind her shoulders. Skye gives an almost imperceptible nod before dipping her head and kissing him.

 

 

 

He knows that his mouth still tastes of her, his chin still slick from her cunt, but Skye doesn’t seem to care. She kisses him with a bruising intensity, her tongue insistent against his, her teeth nipping at his lower lip, fingers sliding across the bare skin of his chest. The warmth of her hands is a welcome contrast to the cool fabric of her dress, and Grant starts to wonder if he’s going to have to admit defeat and get her to show him how to get it off her. Skye chooses that exact moment to press herself flush against him and grind her hips down onto his cock. His vision flares bright white, fire building in his stomach, the warm wet heat of her sliding against him almost more than he can handle. He’s desperate to feel her against him, skin on skin, ridiculously relieved when he feels Skye’s hands at his waist, pushing insistently at his trousers.

 

 

 

“Where are the condoms?” Skye’s voice is low, breathless. It can’t be possible, but Grant’s pretty sure that it makes any blood that wasn’t there already shoot straight to his dick.

 

 

 

“Bottom drawer of the desk.” He’d go and get them himself only he feels light-headed, dizzy, and he’s sure that he’d make more of a fool of himself than he almost definitely already has. He wants Skye so badly that he feels the loss of her weight on top of him like a physical ache.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

Skye pushes herself up to sitting, the palms of her hands braced against Grant’s chest. She considers scraping her nails down his torso, leaving scratches that will stay for days, but there’s a part of her that knows it’s a bad idea. That seeing physical proof of herself on his skin will make it so much harder to leave. Grant’s got the most ridiculous grin on his face that she’s ever seen, but somehow it only makes her want him more. Skye is coming to the somewhat alarming conclusion that she’s having the best night of her life, and she has absolutely no idea how to deal with any of this. She’s basically decided that fucking Grant out of her system is definitely the best way forward. It’s worked for every other guy, and why would _he_ be any different. The lights from the club glint off the slight sheen that’s still evident on his chin. Her heart beats a rapid staccato against her ribs as he runs a hand across his face and arches an eyebrow at her. It looks like a challenge.

 

 

 

It’s the work of only a moment for her to stand and pull his pants off him. His cock springs up against his belly as she pulls his underwear down and Skye silently congratulates herself on giving him a second chance. She looks up to find Grant smirking at her, and she’s willing to swear later that wiping the smug grin off his face is the only thought in her head as she leans forwards and runs the flat of her tongue slowly up his shaft. She drifts her fingers up his inner thighs, delighted at the feel of his muscles jumping under her touch, before gently sucking the tip of his dick into her mouth. His groan shoots straight to her cunt and Skye abandons any pretense at dignity, cupping his balls with one hand as she swallows him deeper.

 

 

 

She can feel his fingers twisting in her hair, the muscles of his stomach clenching as he clearly fights not to fuck up into her mouth. Skye hums her appreciation at his ability to stay put, gratified when she hears him choking out her name. She pulls her mouth off him, releasing the pressure with a _pop_ that sounds obscenely loud, even with the music echoing in the room. Grant’s head drops back against the couch, and Skye doesn’t even bother to suppress the delight that she feels at the sight of his erratic breathing.

 

 

 

“Don’t go anywhere.” She’s certain that the wrecked look on Grant’s face means that he’s going absolutely nowhere, but it never hurts to be clear.

 

 

 

“Yes, Skye.” It’s barely more than a whisper, his lips curling into a delighted smile as he says it. Skye stands and looks down at him, pants pooled at his ankles, dick curving against his stomach, blissed-out smile on his face and acknowledges that this is probably the time to run if she’s going to. She’s almost surprised when she finds herself rifling through the draws of his desk as though her life depends on it.

 

 

 

“I thought you said bottom drawer.” Skye’s coming up empty and it’s actually pissing her off, the thought that she might not get to finish what they’ve started. Part of her wonders if she can convince Grant to just go down on her again. The look of alarm on Grant’s face as it appears over the back of the couch is enough to tell her that he probably wouldn’t take that much persuading.

 

 

 

“I _did_ say bottom drawer.” Grant shuffles off the couch, grabbing his trousers with one hand and pulling them up to his hips as he stands. Skye stares pointedly at him, his pants pushing against the base of his cock, his fly bracketing either side of his erection. He looks down at himself, following the direction of her gaze. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before, Skye. I’m not going to bother putting my trousers on properly just because _you_ can’t find the condoms.”

 

 

 

“I wonder if you’ll still be saying that when you have to go downstairs?” Skye delivers this in the sweetest tones she can manage as she pulls an empty box from the drawer. “I mean, surely you bring all your conquests here? Shouldn’t you be more prepared?” Skye almost takes pity on him at the look of utter bewilderment that crosses his face.

 

 

 

“Actually, I don’t bring anyone up here.” He shrugs as he says it. For a moment Skye thinks he’s joking, but even in the dim light she can see the blush that’s beginning to stain his cheeks. She has to bite her lip to prevent the giggle that’s trying to escape her at the fact that he’s still mostly naked and _this_ is what he’s embarrassed about. She’s a big enough person to admit that, in fairness, he doesn’t really need to be embarrassed about anything else.

 

 

 

“Grant Ward, do you mean to tell me that we’re christening your office?” Skye keeps her voice light, teasing.

 

 

 

“I guess that’s exactly what I’m telling you. Although I have no idea why, since you seem entirely too pleased with yourself.” Grant sighs as he pulls his pants on properly, but he rather ruins the effect with the grin he gives Skye as she pouts at him. He leans back over the couch, turning back with Skye’s underwear hanging from his index finger. “I’m just going to hang onto these for you.” The look on his face almost dares her to contradict him as he pockets them.

 

 

 

“That’s my lucky underwear.” Skye crosses her arms and props a hip against his desk. She’s actually kind of intrigued to know where he’s going with this. Nothing about this evening is going as she anticipated.

 

 

 

“Well then I guess if you want it back you’re going to have to come with me.” With that Grant brings her shoes over to her before grabbing his shirt from the floor, slipping it on and buttoning it up as he heads for the door. Skye slips her heels on whilst contemplating staying in his office, just to prove a point, but then Grant changes direction. He covers the distance between them in three strides, slides his hands under her jaw and presses his lips to hers. It’s softer than before, none of the intensity, but Skye can still feel the promise of it heating her skin and, when he releases her and twines the fingers of one hand with hers, it doesn’t occur to her to let go.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

Grant tries not to think about how good Skye’s hand feels in his as she follows him down the stairs. He’s still half-hard, Skye’s thumb rubbing across his knuckles doing absolutely nothing for his self-control, and he almost falls down the last two steps, Skye’s body weight the only thing that stops him. He turns to check that she’s okay only to find her standing with a hand clamped over her mouth, hiccupping with barely contained laughter.

 

 

 

“Good to know that you find my near-fatal fall amusing.” He’s sure that his delivery would be a lot more scathing if Skye didn’t look completely stunning. In the light her cheeks are flushed, her eyes dancing with humor, and he’s suddenly not sure why he ever thought it would be a good idea to fuck her for the first time in the dark. Grant’s almost sure that he shouldn’t be thinking about the fourth or fifth time before he’s even slept with her once, but the effect that Skye is having on him is unprecedented.

 

 

 

“I’m sorry.” It takes an obvious effort for Skye to get herself under control. “Are you okay?” She can’t quite fight back the giggle in the last word. In the next moment Grant’s pulling her up against him, kissing the smile on her lips. She scratches lightly at the back of his neck, making him shiver, as she deepens the kiss.

 

 

 

“Debatable.” He murmurs it against her mouth, breathing her air. He’s not really sure if he’s ever going to be okay again. “Come home with me.” Skye pulls her face away and stares at him, expression unreadable. He can feel a knot of anxiety beginning to form in his chest, but then Skye gives him a nod and a shy smile and he’s moving before she has a chance to change her mind.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

They make it to the bar without further incidents, Grant spinning Skye around and depositing her on an empty stool before leaning over the counter to grab his jacket. Trip materializes at her elbow as though he’s been waiting for the two of them to appear.

 

 

 

“Shall I call you a cab, Skye?” Trip sounds strange, as though he’s delivered this particular sentence one too many times before. His tone carries a curious mixture of empathy and determination. Skye’s actually beginning to wonder what the hell Grant usually does with the women he picks up.

 

 

 

“Actually Trip she’s coming home with me.” Grant’s sliding on his jacket as he says it and misses the look of utter astonishment that crosses Trip’s face. Skye catches it, although she’s not entirely sure she knows what it means.

 

 

 

“Really?” Trip’s voice echoes the look on his face and clearly Grant doesn’t miss that. He frowns slightly at Trip as he adjusts his collar. Trip manages to moderate his tone to something more conciliatory before he continues. “I mean, of course she is.”

 

 

 

Skye can’t quite decipher the look that passes between them, so she simply changes the subject. “It turns out that Grant wasn’t exactly prepared for company…”

 

 

 

“ _That’s_ unfortunate” Trip doesn’t really sound as though he finds it unfortunate at all.

 

 

 

“Yeah, _Trip_.” Grant’s expression appears to promise that he and Trip haven’t finished with this particular conversation. Skye’s finding the subtext here to be utterly enthralling. “Also, entirely unexpected. But I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

 

 

 

Trip’s look of innocence is laughably fake. “I have no idea what you’re trying to imply, Grant. As if I would do anything like that to try and save a perfectly nice girl from making a perfectly terrible mistake.” Trip beams at Skye as he says it. She’s fairly certain that she’s never been called a nice girl before. She’s not totally sure if she likes it.

 

 

 

“Remind me again why I keep you around?” There’s no venom in Grant’s words though and Skye gets the feeling that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

 

 

 

“Cause I’m your only friend?” Trip’s grin somehow gets broader. Skye watches in fascination and she’s pretty sure that his eyes _actually_ twinkle.

 

 

 

“You’re not really doing a lot for my ego, Trip.” Grant doesn’t sound remotely bothered and Skye wonders if it’s because he knows that the statement is true, or if he just doesn’t really care.

 

 

 

“Yeah, well, it needs shrinking or you’ll never make it out the door.” Trip delivers this with the air of a man who has won the final bout of a championship title. This time Grant pulls a face and gestures at Skye, as though her presence should be some sort of deterrent.

 

 

 

Skye’s now watching the whole exchange with wide-eyed delight. “This is incredibly insightful, guys. Please don’t stop on my account.” She props her elbow on the bar and puts her chin on her hand, as though she’s prepared to wait indefinitely for them to finish.

 

 

 

“Honestly, you know he’s trouble, right? I say that with love, but it’s the truth.” Trip leans towards her, as though he’s sharing a confidence, even though his voice is pitched to carry. Skye wants to laugh at the look of total outrage on Grant’s face, but somehow manages to school her features to rapt fascination.

 

 

 

“Gosh. He sounds terrible.” Skye can see Grant’s mouth working frantically in her peripheral vision, but he can’t seem to find words to express enough how outraged he is. “Perhaps I should give you my number so that you can console me when he lets me down.”

 

 

 

“ _Girl_ , that sounds like a great idea.” Trip’s flashes a megawatt grin as Skye leans forwards and grabs the pen from behind his ear, scribbling her number on the back of a receipt before pushing it towards him.

 

 

 

“I am _right here_.” Grant manages to find his voice as Trip tucks the piece of paper in his pocket.

 

 

 

“And you’re proving yourself to be a worthy adversary Grant, but sometimes a girl just needs someone to hang out with.” Skye’s seriously impressed with the fact that she manages not to laugh at Grant’s whine of outrage.

 

 

 

“See, man, I told you that every girl questioned would rather hang out with me. I mean, you’re easy on the eye, but I’m a good person. They can tell.”

 

 

 

“Trip, don’t be that way, you’re super hot too.” Skye reaches over and deliberately squeezes Trip’s bicep. Grant crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at her.

 

 

 

“Shall I just call _you two_ a cab?” Grant takes a step closer to her as he says it, clearly having no intention of doing any such thing. Skye takes the opportunity to run her hand up the back of his thigh before smacking him on the ass. The way that her hand stings leads her to believe that it’s pretty much as firm as the rest of him. She feels her lips twitch as she bites back the innuendo that’s just begging to be said out loud.

 

 

 

“Nah, you’ll do. After all, we have unfinished business.” Skye feels herself blush at the promise in the look Grant gives her.

 

 

 

“Oh my God, you two, get a room.” Trip can’t quite disguise the smile in his voice as he says it and Skye grins at the fond look he can’t quite hide as he turns away. “Tommy’s already here.”

 

 

 

“Tommy?” Skye’s sure that she’s heard that name somewhere before.

 

 

 

“My driver. Not to be confused with Thomas, my brother. No nicknames in our family.” Grant pulls a face as he says it and Skye’s dying to hear the rest of the story. That’s definitely not what this is about though. This is about two people just wanting to have some fun, nothing more.

 

 

 

“Of course you have a driver.” Skye supposes that she really shouldn’t be surprised. The guy owns a nightclub, tried to pick her up the second she tried to walk in the door and made her orgasm twice before she’d even managed to get his pants off. He’s basically a walking cliché. Oddly she finds that she doesn’t actually care all that much. Also, she’s dying to see what his house looks like.

 

 

 

“Try not to be offended if he’s shocked at your appearance.” Grant says this as though it’s not completely offensive.

 

 

 

“What’s wrong with my appearance.” Skye’s sure that her voice goes up at least two octaves. Trip uses that moment to mime _I’ll call you_ and slink off into the darkness.

 

 

 

“No, no, not like that! You’re perfect. I mean that he might be surprised to see that you’re coming with me.” Grant takes a breath and eyes her appraisingly before continuing. “Although, now that you mention it, you aren’t wearing any underwear.”

 

 

 

“And whose fault is that?” She tries her best to ignore the part where he called her perfect. They’re beginning to skirt dangerous ground here. This is a one-time thing. It is. She’s definite on that.

 

 

 

“Mine.” He breathes it against her neck, his breath hot as he presses a warm kiss against her skin, and Skye’s suddenly not really sure what they’re talking about.

 


	4. you know that i got the answers in me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay but I was determined not to put this out into the world until Skye and Ward did what everyone's been wanting them to do since this began. It only took them another 10K words. SORRY WORLD. Consider this the end of the night. But maybe the start of something more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is why I shouldn't be allowed to publish anything until it's finished. I fail completely at staying on task. Much like Grant Ward as it turns out. Although we both get there in the end....

Skye’s hand is warm in his, and Grant barely manages a polite nod at several of his employees as he practically drags her out of the club behind him. He’s pretty sure that he can hear Trip’s laughter following them out of the door, but he really doesn’t have it in him to care. It’s not until the blinding light of a half-dozen flashes hits his eyes that he realizes that he should possibly have given more consideration to the wisdom of leaving via the front door.

 

 

 

“What the hell?” Skye’s voice is barely audible above the clamor that greets their appearance. He tightens his grip on her fingers almost instinctively; abruptly aware of how terrifying this could be to someone that wasn’t expecting it.

 

 

 

“Shit, Skye, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking…” Grant knows that, as apologies go, it’s totally inadequate, but it’s nothing more than the truth. He’s wavering between turning them both around and vanishing back into the relative safety of the club or just making a run for it. Thankfully he’s saved from making the choice by the arrival of his town car. He’s not entirely sure that Skye should be laughing as two photographers nearly get run over, but he knows that he’s got a delighted smile on his own face, so it’s not exactly as though he’s occupying the moral high ground here.

 

 

 

“You didn’t tell me you were a _celebrity_.” Somehow Skye manages to make it sound like an insult. He turns around to find her rolling her eyes at him. He’s certain that it’s going to make page three in the morning. He doesn’t even care. Let mother and father choke on their morning coffee.

 

 

 

“I’m really not. My club’s just the place to be seen.” He gives her an apologetic shrug but he can tell from the look that Skye gives him that she’s a long way from convinced. “Honestly, Skye. I’d be happier if I didn’t have to deal with any of the trappings that come with popularity but it’s not that simple.”

 

 

 

“And why’s that?” Skye actually seems to be taking all of this in her stride, flashing a beaming smile at the closest camera lens and pulling Grant more firmly up against her. He tries to pretend that her entire body hasn’t gone completely rigid, nothing like the soft skin and gentle laughter of earlier.

 

 

 

“Because that’s the way that Bakshi wins.” He has no idea why he’s telling Skye any of this. She’s practically a stranger and yet he finds himself wanting to tell her everything. Spill every secret he has into the air between them just to see if she’ll gather them up and keep them safe.

 

 

 

“Okay.” Skye gives a slight nod and gifts him the faintest of smiles. He can actually feel her body slowly relaxing against him. “How much of a show do you need to put on to stay on the front page?” She’s stepping closer almost before he realizes, raising her eyebrows and biting back a grin that’s laced with mischief.

 

 

 

“You really don’t need to do this, Skye.” Grant can see Tommy out of the corner of his eye, sliding around to the back of the car and pulling the door open. “We can just get in the car and go.”

 

 

 

“But where would be the fun in that?” Skye’s hand is sliding around his neck before he can protest further, and Grant has to admit that he doesn’t really make much of an attempt to stop her. His eyes slide closed as she brushes her lips against his and, although he’s dimly aware of a dozen voices shouting his name, the only thing he’s really capable of focusing on is Skye. Stealing his breath and making him feel as though there’s nothing else in the world but her.

 

 

 

Skye laughs against him as she slides her tongue past his teeth, licking up into his mouth. He can feel her lips curving into a smile as he pulls her closer. He’s not sure that he really remembers how to breathe or why he can hear his own name echoing in his ears. It’s not until Skye pulls away, a delighted grin on her face, that Grant realizes that people waiting in line to get into _Hydra_ are actually applauding. Skye’s halfway into a sardonic curtsey before he manages to slide his arm around her waist and usher her towards the waiting car.

 

 

 

“You’re such a spoilsport.” The pout that accompanies Skye’s words is nothing less than impressive. All it does is draw attention to the fullness of her lips. Grant has to firmly suppress his desire to start kissing her again. He really just needs to get her back to his place. That thought slams hard up against the fact that he’s actually asked Skye to come home with him. And that this is a first. Grant’s pretty sure that if he bothered to pull out his phone, vibrating insistently against his hip, he’d find a string of messages from Trip that would inform him, in no uncertain terms, that he’d better be sure about what he’s doing. The only thing that Grant’s really sure about is that Skye is the most unexpected thing that’s happened to him in years.

 

 

 

He doesn’t check his phone.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

“Hey Tommy, I’m Skye.” She’s not entirely sure on the etiquette of meeting the driver of the guy you’ve just picked up in a club, so Skye opts for a beaming smile and aggressively shoving her hand at Tommy, thereby ensuring that it would be rude not to shake it. Also, she’s fairly certain that there are a million cameras going off, and if there’s one thing the orphanage taught her it was how to be polite. Skye suppresses that thought. Her past has no business intruding on the present.

 

 

 

“Hello.” Tommy takes her hand with some trepidation, clearly staring over her shoulder as he does. Skye turns slightly, expecting to see Grant pulling some sort of face. She’s slightly surprised to find him looking at the back of her head. Only now he’s staring into her eyes and Skye can’t quite seem to look away. It’s not until Tommy attempts to extract his hand from hers that Skye remembers that she and Grant have managed to make themselves the center of attention at what feels like the greatest show on earth. Skye’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she’s not wearing any panties.

 

 

 

 

“Are we getting out of here any time soon?” She has to stand on her tiptoes and brace her back against Grant’s chest in order to ask the question and, really, it’s not doing a great deal for her self control, being pressed up against his body.

 

 

 

“Well, I guess if you’d let go of Tommy’s hand we’d probably make more progress.” Grant bends down slightly so that he can whisper it in her ear.

 

 

 

“He has nice hands. Very capable.” Skye tries to be graceful about extricating herself from the handshake, but Grant gives her a rueful smile and a headshake before pressing his lips to the skin below her ear, and Skye’s not sure that she can remember how to breathe, let alone be elegant. She can dimly hear people yelling questions about what her name is; where she comes from; if she’s the new lady in Grant’s life.

 

 

 

“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Grant’s voice is soft, but it carries all the promise that she felt earlier, drifting across her skin and making her pulse race. “I’ve had enough of being an exhibition for one night.”

 

 

 

“That’s a shame. I had really big plans once we got to your place. It seems as though you’d be an excellent stripper.” Skye delivers this with a grin. She’s not sure if she’s trying to get the photographers to catch her sliding her hand up Grant’s inner thigh or not. Either way, he catches her by the wrist before she makes it even as far as the spot where she pinched him earlier in the night. “What’s the matter, Grant? You weren’t this shy earlier.”

 

 

 

“Well, _Skye_ , earlier there weren’t fifty people with cameras and a perfectly decent car with tinted windows available.” He has one hand under her elbow, steering her into the back seat, before she really has a chance to protest. Skye’s actually grateful since she’s fairly certain that she wouldn’t be putting up a particularly convincing attempt at refusing to go with him, given the choice.

 

 

 

“You don’t even have a lock on your office door…” Skye somehow manages to slide herself into the back seat without demonstrating to everyone that she’s wearing nothing underneath her dress. She suspects that it’s not entirely a coincidence that Grant stands by the door and makes an exaggerated display of removing his jacket, just in case any photographers feel like trying their luck at getting a more compromising shot of her. “Who the hell _are_ you?” It slips out before Skye has a chance to bite back the words.

 

 

 

“Grant Ward.” The grin he gives her should be illegal. She feels it taking up residence in her bones, sparking through every cell of her body and sending a shiver of anticipation through her. “I thought we’d kind of covered the ‘getting to know you’ stuff?” He has to duck his head in order to slide into the seat next to her, and Skye misses the next thing that he says.

 

 

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Did you just give me an apology for being a smartass?” Skye arches an eyebrow at him and tries to ignore the fact that one of Grant’s hands has settled on her knee. It’s warm, the pressure of it a tantalizing reminder of what his skin feels like against hers, and Skye’s suddenly having trouble focusing on anything else.

 

 

 

“Why would I apologize for that? It’s the only thing that got me this far.” Grant’s hand is sliding up her leg as he says it, and Skye’s aware that if she doesn’t get control of this situation soon then she’s never going to regain the upper hand. As it is she has to shift slightly in her seat, trying to distract herself from the ache of desire that’s snaking down her spine, drifting across her clit.

 

 

 

“No, it’s your abysmal forward planning that got you here, remember? We could be having a great time in your office and instead you’re going to have to explain to the world how you ended up taking home yet _another_ random girl.” Skye tries not to be offended by the way that Grant throws his head back and laughs. She consoles herself with the fact that his thumb is still drawing circles on her thigh. “It’s really not that hilarious. You’re not the one that’s going to have to work out how to get home in the morning.” Skye doesn’t even bother trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She tries to tell herself that her tone is entirely related to the fact that Grant’s house is probably across the other side of town rather than the fact that he seems to have decided not to drift his hand any higher up her leg.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

“So is this a normal Saturday night for you, Grant Ward?” Skye’s giving him an arch look as she says it and Grant’s not entirely sure what answer’s going to be the right one.

 

 

 

“Honestly, Skye, absolutely nothing about tonight is even approaching the realms of normal.” Apparently honesty is the way to go, since Skye settles herself more comfortably back against the seat. “What would you normally be doing if you weren’t helping me give the town something to talk about?”

 

 

 

“Oh, you know, this and that.” Skye waves a vague hand in his direction as though she hopes that it’s going to stop him trying to get a straight answer. “Whatever pays the bills.”

 

 

 

“Seriously Skye, you’ve basically seen all of my deep dark secrets. I’m pretty sure that my best friend already likes you more than me, and you’re _seriously_ not going to tell me anything about yourself?” She could even tell him that she was working undercover for Bakshi at this point and he probably wouldn’t even bat an eyelid. He just really needs to talk about something, _anything_ , to take his mind off how much he still wants to be touching her.

 

 

 

“Well you already know about my kissogram job.” Skye shifts in her seat so that her torso is facing him, leaning close before she continues. “I’d love to tell you what else I do, but then I’d have to kill you.”

 

 

 

“Funny.” He’s about ninety-five percent sure that she’s joking, but there’s a hint of danger edging into her face, and he’s honestly beginning to wonder if there isn’t more to Skye than he’d first assumed.

 

 

 

“I’m a funny girl.” Skye shrugs as though daring him to contradict her. Grant’s aware of the fact that he shouldn’t be sliding his hand up her thigh -- an endless expanse of soft golden skin -- but he just can’t help himself.

 

 

 

“Hey now,” Skye pushes his hand back to safer territory, “no need for that. You know what they say. Patience is a virtue.”

 

 

 

“Really, Skye? That’s what you’re going with? Patience is a virtue?” Grant’s trying his best to keep his voice steady, but he’s almost certain that the delighted expression on Skye’s face means that the last sentence really did come out as more of a whine than he’s strictly happy with.

 

 

 

“Am I lying?” Skye gives him an arch look that does nothing for the state of his rapidly fraying self-control. Grant does a quick calculation in his head and figures that he’s only got about eight minutes before Tommy gets them home. He’s sure that it’s probably going to be the longest eight minutes of his life.

 

 

 

“I guess not.” Grant clears his throat in an attempt to stop his voice from sounding quite so needy. “I’ve never really been very good at waiting though.”

 

 

 

“Well, that may be so, but I think I’ve probably scandalized Tommy enough this evening, don’t you?” Skye leans over, planting her index finger on his knee and running it slowly up his leg as she continues. “God knows what he’ll think of me if I let you finger me in the back of the car.”

 

 

 

The matter of fact tones in which she delivers this statement, combined with the fact that she’s now sliding her palm slowly up his inner thigh, makes his stomach lurch and blood rush straight to his dick. Grant shifts in his seat in an attempt to relieve the pressure, only to catch Skye staring at the bulge of his growing erection, a considering look on her face.

 

 

 

“Is that a pair of my panties in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?” Skye huffs out a breath of laughter at her own joke. Grant’s sure that he’s about to come out with a stunning comeback, but the next thing he knows Skye’s hand is stroking firmly along the hard length of his dick, and he’s swallowing down a groan.

 

 

 

“I thought you were worried about shocking Tommy with your behavior?” Grant’s torn between wanting Skye to carry on what she’s doing or lifting her skirt and burying his head between her thighs. He’s pretty sure that he gets to win either way.

 

 

 

“Well you just looked as though you were uncomfortable…” Skye increases the pressure of her hand on the last word. It takes every ounce of Grant’s not inconsiderable self-control to hold back a whimper as she pulls her hand away with a shrug. “I’m only trying to help.”

 

 

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s a lie.” Grant’s proud of the fact that he keeps his voice steady. “You’re an assassin aren’t you? That’s why you can’t tell me what you do? You’ve been sent to kill me.”

 

 

 

“Damn it. You got me.” Skye aims an apologetic shrug in his general direction. “If it’s any consolation I have no intention of killing you until you’ve _actually_ fucked me.”

 

 

 

“I’m not entirely sure if that’s an incentive or not to be honest. Could go either way.” In the dim light, Grant can just see the tip of Skye’s tongue caught between her teeth as she considers her next move. He swallows hard as he has a sudden vivid image of the way that it felt as she flicked it across the head of his dick earlier. Skye gives him a slow smile, full of promise, and he wonders, not for the first time, if she’s actually reading his mind.

 

 

 

“Think of it as trying to convince me to let you live and I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Skye slides her hand up the lapel of his jacket as she says it, before using the collar to pull his mouth towards her. Grant’s increasingly desperate to touch her, but he somehow manages to keep his hands mostly to himself, aware of the fact that once he starts he’s almost definitely not going to be able to stop. He can’t help the way that he, almost unthinkingly, slides one hand under her jaw to keep her right where he wants her.

 

 

 

“Sir, you haven’t mentioned where we’re dropping the young lady off?” Although Tommy’s voice is quiet through the intercom, Grant jumps about a foot off the seat at the unexpected interruption.

 

 

 

Skye snorts into his mouth. He should probably find it disgusting, but instead he decides that her initial reaction is adorable. As is the way she pulls away and slams her hand across her mouth, leaving him staring straight into dark eyes dancing with laughter and just the faintest glimmer of embarrassment.

 

 

 

“Young lady, huh? _Wow_.” Skye drags the word out with about four more syllables than it actually contains. “Where do you find these people, Grant? Is there a magazine for playboys where they can hire awesome best friends that double as barmen, and chauffeurs from the forties?”

 

 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Skye. This is the twenty-first century. Obviously it’s all on the internet.” Grant pulls her back towards him and steals another kiss before leaning forward to switch on the intercom. “We’re headed home Tommy. No need for a detour.”

 

 

 

“Very good sir.” There’s just the faintest of pauses before the response comes back to them. Grant hopes that she missed it, but Skye’s eyes are narrowed appraisingly at him, lower lip caught between her teeth, and he gives up all hope of her letting this go.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

Skye settles back against the seat, content for now that she’s probably toyed with Grant enough for the time being. She hums her approval at the way he twines the fingers of one hand with hers, and turns her attention away from the dangerously tempting bulge in his trousers and towards the quiet streets outside the window. She recognizes the neighborhood, exclusive and totally out of her price range, and wonders if she might actually have bitten off more than she can chew this time. Grant seems decent enough, but what if he’s actually exactly what she thought he was when he first approached her at the club.

 

 

 

“Hey, Skye, you okay? You look as though you’re a million miles away.” Grant’s voice is accompanied by the slightest squeeze of her fingers. “We can drop you home if that’s what you’d prefer.” There’s a faint crease between his brows and he actually looks as though he’s genuinely concerned that she might be having a change of heart. She smiles and shakes her head, relieved to be proven wrong.

 

 

 

“You’re keeping my panties hostage. It wouldn’t be right of me not to fight for them.” Skye’s pulse hitches at the delighted laugh she gets in response. A couple of moments later the car turns into a gated driveway and Skye realizes that they’re actually arriving at Grant’s house. The evening is turning out to be like nothing she expected. Turns out that maybe she does have something to be grateful to Miles for after all.

 

 

 

“So this is it. I wanted something smaller but I foolishly put Thomas in charge whilst I was out of town. Apparently it was a great deal.” The car is gliding to a stop in front of a house that Skye privately thinks is about three times too large for one man to own. She’s somewhat at a loss for words, but fortunately Grant saves her the trouble of coming up with something by leaning towards her and continuing in confidential tones. “Personally, I think he was just desperate for one of us to have a pool so he could go skinny dipping. Some misguided attempt to impress Kara or something.”

 

 

  
“Who’s Kara?” It’s out of her mouth before she has a chance to remember that she’s not interested in Grant’s personal life. She doesn’t need to know anything about Kara, or Grant’s brother, because it’s not information she’s ever going to need again.

 

 

 

“That’s kind of a long story actually. Probably best told over a drink…” Grant doesn’t bother waiting for her response, extricates his hand from hers and is out of the car in a matter of seconds. Skye’s somewhat disconcerted by his sudden disappearance, but just as she’s about to slide across the seat to follow him, her own door opens. Grant’s bent down just enough to grin at her surprised expression. “You coming?”

 

 

 

“Again? Promises, promises…” Skye attempts a shocked expression and really tries not to be affected by the low chuckle that drifts through the night air or the grin that Grant gives her as he offers her his hand. It’s hardly her most brilliant joke, but she appreciates that he’s not openly laughing at her. As he helps her out of the car Skye realizes that it’s possible that she may have somewhat misjudged the purity of his intentions. He’s pulling her up against him, his fingers somehow finding every spot where the fabric of her dress doesn’t present a barrier, and sliding his mouth over hers before she really has a chance to catch her breath.

 

 

 

The heat of his body is a stark contrast to the chill of the night air and Skye shivers slightly even as Grant pulls her closer. Her arms slide up and hook around his neck almost of their own volition, helping her to steady herself on her toes, as Grant sucks softly on her bottom lip. She feels as though she’s on fire at every point where their bodies touch, her hips pushing against his, her body pressed up flush against the firm length of his torso. One of his hands drifts down to cup her ass, and Skye only just manages to bite back a groan.

 

 

 

“Excuse me.” There’s a polite cough, and Skye comes crashing back to reality at the murmured words coming from her left. She forces her eyes open as she pushes herself away from Grant, her heels finally finding the ground. She’s glad that it’s dark enough that neither Grant nor Tommy can see the fuchsia stain spreading across her cheeks. “Sorry to interrupt sir, but will you be needing me again tonight?” Skye tries not to be offended at the unspoken implication that he’ll be required to take her home later. She can tell from the way that Grant pulls her back towards him that she’s failed utterly in her efforts.

 

 

 

“That’s okay, Tommy. We’re good, right?” Grant’s looking at her with something that looks a lot like hope. Or maybe it’s just self-satisfaction. Skye concludes that the latter is much more likely. It doesn’t stop her nodding in the affirmative though. She can’t quite work out why Tommy gives her such an appraising look as he closes the door that Grant didn’t bother to shut.

 

 

 

“Goodnight then, sir.”

 

 

 

Skye’s almost certain that Tommy winks at her before he gets back into the car. By then, though, Grant’s already pulling her towards the front door and Skye realizes that she’s about five miles past the point of no return. Still, she agreed to this, and she’s determined to see it through. One night. Where’s the harm?

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

It takes Grant three attempts to get the key in the lock. He tries to tell himself that it’s because it’s dark, rather than something to do with the way that he seems to have developed a fairly significant tremor. Fortunately, Skye seems caught up in her own thoughts and doesn’t appear to have noticed. He’s really pleased that he had the forethought to leave the lights on, since he’s suddenly aware that he has no clue where the switch is. He has no idea what’s wrong with him.

 

 

 

“So are we just going to stand here on the doorstep as though we’re breaking in?” Skye doesn’t sound quite as sure of herself as she did earlier. He’s not entirely certain what to do with that knowledge. “This _is_ your house, right?” Her suspicious tone morphs suddenly into complete delight. “Oh my God, are we _breaking and entering_? Are you making me an accomplice to your crimes? I’d totally give you up for a more lenient sentence. In case you were wondering.”

 

 

 

Grant’s laughing despite himself at the absurdity of Skye’s comment. He doesn’t really understand how she seems to know exactly what to say to put him at ease. He’s not normally this off balance with women. Skye’s just… different. He’s fairly sure that bringing her home with him is either the best or worst decision that he’s ever made. Either way, he has a disconcerting feeling that nothing’s going to be the same after this.

 

 

 

He turns around to invite Skye in, but she’s already brushing past him, glancing around with curiosity written in every line of her body. He tries to imagine what his life must look like from the outside and concludes that he’s actually fairly surprised that he’s managed to get her this far. Unlike the women he usually ends up going home with, Skye’s expressed virtually no interest in anything other than his family. Usually he’s already given vague non-answers to questions about his career aspirations, net worth and desire for marriage and children by this point in the evening. Bizarrely, given that she’s the only one who hasn’t bothered asking, he actually wouldn’t mind giving Skye the answers to all of those things. He’s clearly losing his mind.

 

 

 

“Where’s the bathroom?” Skye opens the door of the both the closet and the boot room before she asks. Grant’s slightly disappointed that Skye appears to be attempting to run away from him the second that she sets foot inside his house. She plants her back against the wall before crossing her arms and shaking her head at him. “Nobody needs two cupboards in their hallway, Grant.”

 

 

 

“Hey, that’s what I told Thomas.” Grant gives her his best innocent shrug, but Skye just rolls her eyes at him. He’s about to justify himself further, but he figures that telling her about Thomas’ explanation -- involving getting caught having sex with girls in the cloakroom at one too many parties -- isn’t going to impress Skye. “Did I mention I was out of town when he bought the place? All I asked for was a bedroom big enough for a California King, but he decided to take it about eighteen steps too far…” Grant moves towards her, but Skye puts her hand out, palm flat against his chest to prevent him getting any closer.

 

 

“Bathroom?” Her lips twitch as she pops open the top two buttons of his shirt, scratching her nails down his chest. Grant somehow manages to gesture at the door down the hallway even as he’s wondering if he shouldn’t just throw her over his shoulder and take her upstairs. He’s slightly taken aback when Skye’s face suddenly transforms into shocked delight as she lets out a sudden breath of laughter. “I just want you to know that it was dark and I didn’t realize that it was that bad. It’ll help if you keep that uppermost in your mind.” With that she slips sideways and vanishes into the bathroom.

 

 

  
  
Grant’s so busy wondering what the hell Skye’s talking about that it takes him a moment to realize that he’s just made what could be a catastrophic error. Skye’s about to come face to face with his high-school year book photo, all fluffy hair and cheesy grin, lovingly framed in a pink heart by Rosie, and presented to him as a joke at the opening of _Empire_. He wonders if he should call Trip and have a meltdown now, or just wait until the inevitable hysterical laughter that will follow Skye out of the door and, inevitably, his life. He spends about five seconds totally motionless, straining to hear the telltale sound of Skye’s giggles. He does a rapid assessment of his choices and concludes that Trip would be the worst person to call. A situation such as this requires experience in looking like an idiot. Clearly Thomas is really his only option. He turns to grab his phone, catching sight of himself in the mirror. His concern about the photo vanishes in a heartbeat.

 

 

 

Just visible below his open collar are two deep purple marks, the exact size of Skye’s mouth. He pokes at one experimentally, almost surprised to find that it doesn’t really hurt. It’s not until he sees the ridiculous grin that he’s giving his own reflection that he realizes that he’s completely delighted by this turn of events. He runs a thumb experimentally along the inside of his thigh, and he can definitely feel a dull ache as he hits the bruise that Skye left during their first encounter. He wonders if he can convince her to kiss it better. Grant’s running his hand over the outside of his suit pants almost without thinking, eyes sliding closed and a vivid mental image of Skye’s mouth on his dick playing in his mind.

 

 

 

“Sorry, am I interrupting you and your hand?” Skye’s voice comes from directly in front of him and Grant freezes in a position that his brain tells him is absolutely as compromising as he fears. He braces for the worst and cracks one eye open, almost expecting Skye to be half way out of the door. Instead, she’s openly staring at his hand, a broad grin on her face and a calculating look in her eyes.

 

 

 

“Okay Grant, let’s go.” Skye flicks a small foil packet at him, and Grant’s inordinately proud that he manages to catch it before it hits him in the chest. “Your mouth’s been writing all kinds of checks tonight, and I _really_ want to see if your dick can cash them. Got to admit, I wasn’t expecting you to start without me.” She arches an eyebrow at him “I’m kind of offended.”

 

 

 

“If it helps, I was totally picturing your mouth on my dick.” Grant hears the words coming out of his mouth before he manages to stop himself. He blames the fact that virtually all the blood in his body appears to have rushed south to where his cock, almost painfully hard, strains against his pants.

 

 

 

“Oh yeah. It totally does.” Skye flashes him a delighted grin. “I may actually swoon.” She lifts one hand to her forehead, as though she’s actually going to follow through with her threat. It takes Grant two heartbeats to realize that she’s mocking him. Only half of another to know that he doesn’t even mind.

 

 

 

“You think you’re pretty cute, huh?” Grant’s covering the short distance between them even as he says it. Something about the combination of the dare in her voice and the challenge in her eyes spurring him on.

 

 

 

“Hey, you’re the one that said it, not me.” Skye stands her ground, her smile getting broader as he draws closer. “You should probably show me how sorry you are for not waiting.” Grant’s aware of the sharp edges of the condom packet biting into the skin of his palm, and the fact that Skye’s practically goading him into fucking her in the hallway. Which is absolutely not how he intends this to happen. He carefully puts the condom on the hall table behind him before reaching for Skye.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

Skye’s not sure that the sigh she lets out as Grant slides his hands over her hips really gives the take-it-or-leave-it vibe that she’s aiming for. But then his fingers are skipping over her ribs, sliding into the hollows of her spine, and she doesn’t really care any more. Grant presses his lips to her forehead, then her temple, sucks gently down on her earlobe before arching over and nipping a path down the ridge of muscle along her neck. By the time he reaches her collarbone Skye’s fairly certain that it’s only his arms around her that are keeping her upright. She can actually feel her pulse throbbing at her clit and she appears to have lost the ability to form words, an embarrassing muddle of syllables and groans leaving her lips as Grant bites down on the junction of her neck and shoulder.

 

 

 

“How’m I doing apologizing so far?” Grant’s words blend together, each word slurring up against the one before.

 

 

 

“Not bad.” Skye barely recognizes the sound of her own voice, her words disappearing around a groan as Grant slowly slides one hand up underneath her skirt. He’s nipping a slow path along her collarbone, mouth moving at the same speed as his hand. Skye knows that he’s doing it on purpose, a languid tease that’s making her head spin, but she’s more than ready for him to pick up the pace. Almost as though he can read her mind, Grant straightens up and grins at her. She decides that his smile should be illegal, the way that it makes her shiver with anticipation, a jolt of desire shooting straight to her cunt.

 

 

 

Grant doesn’t take his eyes off hers as he slides his hand further up her thigh. Skye has the belated realization that there’s nothing stopping him now, since her underwear is still clearly visible in his pocket. It’s almost the last coherent thought that she has, as Grant finally pushes his fingers against her slick, wet folds, dragging his thumb across her clit and sliding his fingers up inside her. Skye tightens her grip on his arms just to keep herself upright, trying to ignore the fact that her legs are shaking slightly.

 

 

 

Grant increases the pressure on her clit, thumb circling sensitive skin, and fingers pushing deeper up inside her. Skye can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, every breath she takes ragged at the edges, a dull heat starting to build at the base of her spine. Skye swallows a moan as Grant twists his hand slightly, and she can see the exact moment that he knows she’s having a hard time trying to hold herself together. His grin is incandescent and, for all that she’s _really_ enjoying what he’s doing with his hand, Skye can’t keep herself from pulling his head down to hers, biting down on his lip hard enough to make him gasp. She manages not to make a sound as he pulls his hand away from her cunt.

 

 

 

“So, not to sound ungrateful, but we could have stayed at the club if this was all you had planned.” Skye’s very proud of the fact that every word comes out clearly. And in the right order. It’s a fact that wouldn’t usually make her feel particularly smug, but Grant’s staring at her as though he’s about to drop to his knees and fuck her with his tongue. Which, she has to admit, he’s really great at. But that is absolutely not why she’s here. This is about the fact that they have unfinished business to attend to. And then she’s leaving. “You seemed pretty keen to get yourself started, and I have to admit you’re great with your hands, but this is hardly fulfilling the terms of our agreement.”

 

 

 

“Well, _Skye_ , I wasn’t aware that I was on the clock. Or that I’d agreed to anything other than letting you earn your panties back.” Grant reaches into his pocket as he speaks, pulling out Skye’s lucky underwear and dangling them from one finger, just out of reach. She simply folds her arms and raises her eyebrows at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of grabbing for them. Given how much taller than her he is, she knows that she doesn’t stand a chance of getting them back unless he lets her. “As the person currently possessing something you want, shouldn’t I get to negotiate the terms of their release?”

 

 

“Nope.” Skye doesn’t pause for Grant’s response, just steps up against him and slides one hand over his ass and the other along the rigid length of his dick. Grant virtually slumps against her, dropping his hands to her waist as she leans forwards and flicks the tip of her tongue along the hollow of his throat. “So, you do realize that I could just ask nicely and you’d do anything right about now?” Skye knows that it’s not even an idle boast. She can feel the play of muscles under her hands as Grant fights to hold his hips steady.

 

 

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re right.” Grant doesn’t actually sound remotely bothered by the thought. Skye tries very hard to ignore the surge of triumph that twists in her chest. “I absolutely concede defeat. You totally deserve to see if my dick is able to cash those checks you were talking about.” The bastard doesn’t even flinch as Skye starts to undo his pants. She’s beginning to wonder if this is a more evenly matched game than she had originally assumed.

 

 

“So, Grant, are you planning on fucking me in the hallway?” Skye tries to keep her voice light, but the way that Grant’s eyes are darkening as he looks at her is making it something of a struggle. His fingers tracing circles on the bare patches of skin at her waist really aren’t helping matters.

 

 

 

“Well the carpet’s pretty nice, you have to admit.” Grant takes a step away from her, effectively preventing Skye from slipping her hand inside his open fly. She’s certain that he’s doing it on purpose. He leans a hip against the hall table, crossing his arms and putting a finger to his lips as though debating the options. Skye wonders if she should worry about the fact that she’s seriously considering sitting on the table next to him, pulling her skirt up and begging him to fuck her. She’s _really_ not that girl. She attempts to ignore the way that her skin feels as though it’s three sizes too small, and tries to focus on what he’s saying. “There’s always the wall I suppose. No, you’re right, my arms might get tired… Or we could take it next door and try out one of my excellent couches…”

 

 

 

“Seriously, Grant, dealer’s choice.” Skye just wants his hands and mouth back on her body. She’s almost reached the point where she’s willing to beg.

 

 

 

“You sure?” Grant gives her a delighted grin and Skye wonders if she might be making a serious error here. She feels as though electricity’s sparking under her skin as he looks at her, bright white heat that races through her blood and steals her breath. She really needs to get this out of her system.

 

 

 

“Well _I_ don’t know, do I? It’s _your_ house.” Skye shrugs. “I trust you.” She can’t help but notice that Grant’s smirk morphs into a gentle smile as she says it. She’s not even sure why she reaches across the distance between them to twist her fingers with his. Grant pulls her slowly towards him until she’s virtually breathing his air. She’s pretty certain that she’s not talking about the decision of where they’re having sex any more.

 

 

 

“I just want you to remember that I gave you the choice.” Grant’s voice is low, his breath hot on her skin as he presses a kiss to her forehead. She actually misses the heat of his body as he leans away from her to snatch up the condom from the table. Skye decides that she can just deal with all of this in the morning. The cold light of day will make everything much clearer, she’s sure of it.

 

 

 

“Oh God. Is this about to get weird? Do you have a red room of pain or something?” Even as Skye says it she knows that it probably wouldn’t be a dealbreaker.

 

 

 

“Or something.” Grant laughs. “Come on.” He leads her towards the stairs and Skye pretends that it’s just something like déjà vu that makes her heart hammer against her ribs and her head spin.

 

 

 

+

 

 

“Hang on.” Skye stops moving, pulling on his hand and stopping him before he makes it to the second step. He watches as Skye kicks her heels off before following him up the stairs. “Sorry, force of habit.” Skye shrugs at him.

 

 

 

“My mom’s going to love you.” Grant doesn’t realize what he’s saying until the words are already out of his mouth. Fortunately he has his back to her, saving him from seeing whether or not she actually heard him. From the fact that she doesn’t seem to react, he hopes that she hasn’t thought through the implications behind his statement. He doesn’t dare risk a look at her. Somehow he manages to keep his mouth shut until they reach his bedroom door. Skye, for her part, pads along behind him on quiet feet, only the firm pressure of her palm against his allowing him to believe that this isn’t all just some crazy dream.

 

 

 

“I want to make absolutely certain that you’re prepared for this.” Grant finally turns to face her as he puts one hand on the door handle. He’s not actually sure which of them his words are for. She’s the first girl he’s brought back here to his actual _home_ , rather than some rented apartment, and for some reason he’s nervous. Which is totally absurd, because he’s given Skye every opportunity to back out, and yet she seems to be taking everything in her stride. She still looks stunning, even with her lipstick almost completely rubbed off and her hair wild around her face. If anything, she’s more beautiful than she was when he first set eyes on her. He manages not to tell her.

 

 

 

“Bring it on, Grant Ward.” Skye gives him a look of exaggerated excitement.

 

 

 

“Okay.” Grant takes a deeper breath than he feels should be strictly necessary, before shrugging at her and pushing the door open. He takes four steps into the bedroom, pulling Skye along behind him.

 

 

 

“Seriously?” Skye’s voice shakes as though she’s trying really hard not to laugh.

 

 

 

“Seriously.” Grant turns and beams at her, fully aware of the fact that she was expecting something scandalous. He’s really glad that he finally got around to putting his laundry away before leaving for work earlier.

 

 

“I mean, it’s pretty nice, but I was at least expecting mirrors on the ceiling.” Skye drops his hand and heads straight for the dresser. Grant has a moment of panic as he wonders if there’s anything particularly compromising in any of the photos. He concludes that it can’t possibly be any worse than what she’s already managed to worm out of him this evening.

 

 

 

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Grant starts to cross the room towards her, his fingers desperate to be back on her skin.

 

 

 

“Well now, Grant, there’s no need to get ahead of yourself…” Skye starts to laugh as Grant gives her an exaggerated look of outrage and gasps loudly.

 

 

 

“Nice, Skye.” Grant pulls Skye firmly against him, her back pressed against his chest, and looks over her shoulder at the photos grinning back at them. She leans into him and turns her head slightly, so that she’s looking up at him from over her shoulder. He knows that the frown he gives her is one of the least convincing things he’s ever managed. “Remind me again why I decided to invite you back to mine?”

 

 

 

“Because I’m the most fun you’ve had in weeks.” Skye turns around as she says it, looping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his. She’s absolutely intoxicating, the taste of her on his tongue utterly addictive. He doesn’t tell her that she’s the most fun he’s had in as long as he can remember. Skye’s fingers scratch gently through the hair at the back of his neck and she giggles as he sighs into her mouth, pulling her lips away from his. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown as she stares up at him. It’s some consolation that she’s breathing as rapidly as him, pulling in a steadying breath before she continues speaking. He’s sure that he can hear the slightest of tremors in her voice. “So your deep dark secret is that you want us to have sex in your bed?”

 

 

 

“What can I say? I’m a rebel.” He grins at Skye as she shakes her head and busies herself undoing the buttons of his shirt. He tries to pretend that the feeling of her hands slowly drifting down the skin that she exposes isn’t making his heart race. “Also, I need time to fully catalog all the rest of the places in the house that I want to fuck you so that I can make sure there’s a list for the cleaners on Tuesday.”

 

 

 

“Grant, it’s _Saturday_ night.” Skye sounds genuinely shocked.

 

 

 

“It’s a big house.” Without giving Skye a chance to think about it any longer, he pulls her back against him and kisses her hard. She responds in kind, sucking firmly on his bottom lip and gasping as he licks up into her mouth. She somehow manages to get his shirt off in a matter of seconds. Grant decides that it probably helps that she already had it half undone, but he’s still impressed at the speed with which she undoes his cufflinks in order to finish the job. He misses the touch of her mouth, but the intense concentration on her face is doing wonders for his ego.

 

 

 

Skye tugs one shirtsleeve away from his hand and Grant waves his other arm aimlessly in the air trying to rid himself of the rest of the garment. Skye just shakes her head at him as though he’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever seen before grabbing his forearm and pulling his shirt all the way off. Grant has the disconcerting realization that he always seems to be more naked than Skye. For a moment he allows himself to get utterly distracted as Skye leans forwards and slides her tongue over the bruises on his neck. As she scratches a fingernail across his nipple Grant decides that he should really do something about getting Skye’s clothes off.

 

 

 

If he’s honest, he’s still slightly intimidated by her dress, and he has absolutely no idea how the damned thing comes off. Grant decides to just go with what he knows, sliding one strap down off her shoulder and running his tongue along the swell of her breast. Skye hums her approval as he bites softly down above the strip of fabric, but he can’t get the material low enough to do what he wants and suck her nipple into his mouth. He doesn’t quite manage to stifle the exasperated huff that escapes him as her dress defeats him yet again.

 

 

 

“Need a hand?” Skye’s apparently decided to do him the courtesy of not laughing in his face, but her fingers are dipping under the back of his trousers, skirting along the curve of his ass, and he doesn’t really want her to stop. His dick is pressed up between them, and Skye shifts slightly against him, the friction sending a wave of desire lurching through his chest.

 

 

“No.” Grant tugs fruitlessly at the seam of her dress, convinced that there must be some magical way of getting it to come undone. There’s a brief, crazed moment where he considers just ripping the thing off her with his hands. The only problem with that is that he really _likes_ this dress, and it would be a real shame if Skye couldn’t wear it again. Not that she’s actually made any indication that she has any intention of seeing him after this. But he’s optimistic that he’ll convince her somehow. He realizes that Skye actually is beginning to chuckle, her body shaking slightly under his mouth, and he lifts his head with a sigh. “Okay, yes. Please show me how to take this dress off you.”

 

 

 

Skye laughs and takes a step backwards.

 

 

 

“Drop your pants.” She crosses her arms and smirks at him.

 

 

 

“Are you joking?” Grant’s not averse to stripping for her, but the way she’s looking at him is slightly disconcerting.

 

 

 

“Not in the slightest. It seems only fair.” Skye gestures at him with one hand. “You’ve still got my panties, and do you honestly think that I’m wearing a bra with this dress? If I’m going to be naked you’re sure as hell losing your trousers.” The matter of fact tones with which Skye delivers the news that she’s actually wearing nothing at all under her dress does little for the state of Grant’s self-control. It’s not until his chest starts to burn unpleasantly that he realizes that he’s stopped breathing.

 

 

 

“Seems like a pretty good deal now that I think about it.” He aims for insouciant, but the breathless tones in which he delivers his statement probably don’t quite match his intent.

 

 

 

“You bet your life it is.” Skye grins up at him before slowly drifting her gaze down his torso to where she’s already undone his pants. He’s not entirely sure that he recalls when she managed that. He wonders if he should be alarmed.

 

 

 

In the end Grant decides that it’s hardly worth worrying about, since it just saves him time. He kicks his shoes off, leaning down so that he can peel off his socks. He straightens up and makes sure that Skye’s paying attention as he grins at her and pulls his trousers off. His dick is straining against the cotton of his black boxer-briefs and, as he steps out of his trousers, now puddled on the floor at his feet, he takes the opportunity to adjust himself slightly, just to have a moment of relief from the aching pressure that’s becoming almost too much for him to ignore. Skye sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, staring at his hand, and he can see her teeth, perfectly straight, biting down against her own skin. His mouth goes dry as she finally looks up at him, her eyes dark with promise. Skye reaches down with both hands and grips the hem of her dress before pulling it up over her head, shaking her hair loose of the fabric as she throws it to one side.

 

 

 

“All those zippers and that’s how it comes off?” He’s vaguely disgusted with how duplicitous her dress has turned out to be. Unfortunately his efforts to focus on that do nothing to distract him from the fact that Skye’s now standing, entirely naked, in the middle of his bedroom. He considers pinching himself, just to check that he’s not dreaming. He’s fairly certain that his brain wouldn’t manage to conjure up someone like this though. He can’t seem to stop staring, his eyes roaming over the swell of her breasts, the rosy bud of a nipple, the flat planes of her stomach and the soft curls between her legs. Grant’s not sure where to put his hands first.

 

 

 

“Yep.” Skye shrugs what he thinks is supposed to be an apology at him. She doesn’t look particularly sorry. “So, Grant, you’ve got a naked girl in your bedroom. What are you going to do about it?”

 

 

 

“This.” Grant takes a deep breath and covers the short distance between them in two strides, before slowly pushing her backwards towards the bed.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

Skye just about manages to hook her fingers into the waistband of his boxers as she feels the backs of her legs hitting the mattress. It’s not actually that easy with Grant trying to distract her by leaning over and nuzzling at her neck, his teeth tugging gently at her earlobe. Grant slips his hands around her waist, lifting her slightly so that she can perch on the edge of the bed. She takes the opportunity to push his boxers down, leaning forwards to push them past his knees. His dick springs up against his belly as she frees it, and her actions put her mouth at exactly the right height to drag her tongue along Grant’s cock.

 

 

 

Skye uses one hand to gently hold the base of his dick, the skin silky-smooth under her palm, as she flicks her tongue across the head. Grant’s hips jerk towards her, and she hears a soft hiss of air, followed by an audible swallow and just the faintest hint of a groan. The taste of him is heady, bittersweet and salt colliding on her tongue as she sucks him into her mouth and slides her head down with a satisfied hum. The growl that Grant makes as she moves sends a shock of desire directly to her clit. She reaches down with her free hand and presses two fingers against her own sensitive flesh, goosebumps springing up across her skin at both the touch and Grant’s voice whispering her name.

 

 

 

Skye takes him in as deep as she can before she pulls her mouth off him with a pop. She acts almost without thinking, spitting into her palm and sliding her hand back down the rigid length of his dick. She leans back, pumping her hand in time with the small circles she’s drawing around her clit. Skye can see Grant’s hands curling into fists by his sides, the skin over his knuckles turning white. She looks up to find him staring down at her, his pupils blown to midnight black, and his chest heaving. Skye takes a shaky breath before leaning forwards to put her mouth on the dark bruise she sees on his thigh. He grits out her name around clenched teeth, one hand coming up to tangle in her hair, as she increases the pressure, nipping down with her teeth, and the sound of it makes her cunt throb.

 

 

 

“Skye,” Grant’s voice breaks around her name, sharp syllables drifting through the air and sending shocks up her spine. “Fuck.” His fingers twist tighter through her hair as she slides her hand faster along his dick. He finally pulls his hips away from her, her hand slipping off him, with a gasped plea to wait. Skye only just manages to stop herself reaching out and pulling him back towards her, just to see that wrecked look on his face intensify. He loosens his grip on her hair, tucking it back behind her ear, before running a finger along her cheek. Skye feels as though he’s trying to communicate something important, but she’s not sure that she’s remotely ready to hear it.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

Grant can feel the pressure beginning to build at the head of his dick as Skye pumps her hand along the length of him. It takes a supreme effort of will not to pull her mouth back so she’ll carry on sucking him off, dizzying waves of heat erupting across his skin and making him feel as though he’s barely surviving. But then Skye sucks down on the bruise she pinched onto his thigh hours ago, and it’s somehow even better. He loves that she’s leaving her mark on him, branding him with reminders that he’ll wear for days. Just the thought of it makes his dick grow harder. Grant’s not actually sure that he’s going to last much longer, and he desperately wants to be inside her when he comes. Somehow he manages to pull his body away from Skye’s touch.

 

 

 

“Condom?” Grant’s not entirely sure if he’s asking for permission, or just putting the word out there, hoping that Skye will do the rest of the work for him.

 

 

 

“Hey, I gave it to you.” Skye actually sounds concerned, her voice hitching in disbelief. “Seriously, we’re not doing this again Grant. Not unless you’re planning on apologizing to me with your tongue. Which, I have to admit, is pretty talented.”

 

 

 

“Now, Skye, that almost sounded like a compliment.” Grant realizes that it would be a lot more impressive if he wasn’t desperately looking around the room, trying to remember where the hell he put the condom.

 

 

 

“Don’t let it go to your head Casanova.” Skye stifles a giggle before continuing. “Either of them.”

 

 

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Grant’s about to make a comment about the appalling nature of her joke, but he sees the glint of a foil wrapper poking out from under his trousers, and his attention is immediately elsewhere. “Condom’s here.” Grant grabs it from the floor and triumphantly brandishes it in Skye’s direction, almost dropping it in his haste. He thinks that he hears Skye snort, but when he looks up she’s all innocence smile and wide eyes.

 

 

 

Skye doesn’t take her eyes off his face as she slowly slides herself backwards up the bed, her skin almost glowing against the white sheets. Grant’s having significant difficulties remembering what he’s supposed to be doing. Every time she lifts her leg to push herself backwards he gets a tantalising glimpse of glistening pink folds. His hand moves almost entirely of it’s own volition and Skye stares openly as he strokes his palm up his dick twice, watching her settle back against the pillows. One of her eyebrows quirks up at him, but she doesn’t say a word as he tears the packet open with his teeth, rolls the condom on and leans over to kiss her instep.

 

 

 

Grant’s brain appears to have stopped processing the bigger picture, and instead hones in on the tiny details. Skye’s nail polish is bright orange, the color of the sky just before the sun comes up on a clear day at the lake, and it seems oddly fitting. He shakes his head slightly, trying to refocus, and slowly slides his hand up her leg, trailing his mouth along behind it. Skye hums her approval as he presses a trail of light kisses up her inner thigh, sliding his face along beside soft curls and inhaling the scent of her. He carefully parts her slick folds with his fingers, dipping his tongue inside her and allowing himself just a taste of her, before moving up and sliding the flat of his tongue firmly against her clit. Skye groans and tilts her hips up towards him as he scrapes his teeth over her skin.

 

 

 

Grant realizes that he’s rapidly losing all semblance of control, practically fucking into the mattress, and it seems like a total waste when he could be fucking Skye. He pushes himself up the length of her body, biting gently at her skin as he moves. He pauses to suck one nipple into his mouth, relishing the way that it hardens on his tongue. Skye doesn’t say anything, but he feels one of her heels behind his ass, nudging him insistently up towards her. Grant can’t help smiling at the knowledge that she may be hiding it better, but she wants this just as much as he does.

 

 

 

Grant pushes himself the rest of the way up her body until his hips are nestled between her legs, his dick pushing up against her cunt. He slowly presses a soft kiss to her lips, light pressure with only a hint of tongue, before bumping his nose against hers, earning him a quietly murmured ‘ _idiot_ ’. Grant doesn’t bother trying to hide his grin at the tender tone in her voice. He doesn’t give her the opportunity to say much more, reaching down and pushing his fingers up into her cunt at the same time as circling his thumb around her clit. She’s so wet that there’s virtually no resistance, and he wants her so badly that he can barely breathe.

 

 

 

“I think you’ve made your point, don’t you?” Skye shifts underneath him, tilting her hips and letting her thighs drift further apart. “Come _on_ Grant. I want to feel your dick inside me.” She squeezes her cunt hard around his fingers before giving him a wicked grin. “ _Now_.” Skye stares right at him as she says it, and Grant’s not sure that he’s ever been more turned on in his life. He slips his fingers out of her, taking a steadying grip on his dick before he positions the tip against her cunt, and slowly pushes himself up inside her. He knows that he emits an embarrassingly loud moan as he slides into her, hot and wet, but Skye’s gasping his name against his ear, and it doesn’t occur to him to care.

 

 

 

Skye’s hands grip his shoulders, her fingernails scraping along his skin, stinging half-moons that are just this side of painful. Grant takes his time, giving Skye the opportunity to adjust to the feel of him inside her before he moves. He also doesn’t trust himself not to fall apart too fast, needs time to catch his breath and settle the white noise that’s blasting in his skull, his own pulse beating a rapid tattoo inside his skull. Skye’s got her legs wrapped around his hips almost before he registers what she’s doing, pulling him deeper and ripping a noise from him that he barely recognizes as his own voice. He responds in kind, tilting his hips and sliding his dick almost all the way out of her before slamming his hips back against hers.

 

 

 

“Grant, fuck. Faster.” Skye gasps commands at him as he moves, pushing her hips up to meet his with every thrust. Their skin is already slick, sweat beading across Skye’s breasts, and his hands slip across her skin as he picks up the pace. He sucks sloppy kisses across whatever pieces of skin he can reach, her body salt-sweet under his mouth. Pressure builds at the head of his dick, a dull ache growing at the base of his spine, and he slows his pace, desperate to drive Skye over the edge with him.

 

 

 

“What do you need, Skye?” It comes out like a plea. A desperate question that he knows she understands, her eyes snapping open as he stills inside her. He sees the brief moment of uncertainty that crosses her face, the second where she’s clearly trying to decide how much he deserves to know.

 

 

 

“To be in control.” Her voice is quiet and it’s the first time he’s heard her sound anything _but_ completely in charge all night. He can tell that it’s a confession that she clearly isn’t used to making. He spares a brief moment to wonder if it would be too presumptive to beat the crap out of all the guys that came before him. He doesn’t bother hiding his own delighted expression as he rolls them over, carefully not to slip out of her, so that he’s lying on his back with Skye braced on his chest, leaning over him. He gazes up at her, relishing the sight of her above him, the tip of her tongue just visible between her teeth. Her hair’s wild across her shoulders, dark strands sticking to her damp skin. He feels her smile on his skin like the sun coming up, warming every inch of his body.

 

 

 

Skye slides her hands down his chest and leans forwards to press a kiss to his lips. It’s messy, all tongue and teeth and challenge, as she rocks forwards against him, grinding her pelvis into his. Skye moans her satisfaction into his mouth and Grant almost loses it then and there. Somehow, though, his hands find her hips and he tries not to grip too tight as Skye slides steadily up and down the length of his dick. He lifts his head up and captures a nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and Skye groans his name.

 

 

 

He can feel his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, building at the head of his dick as Skye sinks lower and more firmly onto him. Even through the haze of his own _need_ , he reaches down and flicks his thumb over her clit just as she lifts herself off him. Skye grinds down hard onto his hand in response, her hips stuttering as he thrusts up inside her. He can feel her clenching around him, muscles fluttering against his dick, and lightning sparks along his spine as his own orgasm rips through him. Skye collapses onto him, breathless, riding out the last shuddering waves of her own release.

 

 

 

Neither of them moves for long moments, lying surrounded by the harsh sounds of their own jagged breathing. Grant finally recovers enough to press a kiss to her temple. His lips taste salt and Skye, and he’s not sure that he’s ever going to be able to stop wanting her. He carefully slides an arm across her shoulders, trying not to break the intimacy of the moment, relishing the weight of her draped against his chest.

 

 

 

“‘M too hot.” Skye’s words are muffled against his chest and her tone is utterly pathetic. He somehow manages not to laugh as he rolls the two of them sideways, stopping once Skye’s head is pillowed on his arm, the cool air hitting his back. He tries not to make a dissatisfied noise as his dick slips out of her. He fails entirely, but the sound of Skye’s soft laughter makes all the difference. He’s taken aback to feel her fingers deftly sliding the condom off him and he watches as she ties a knot before casually throwing it towards the pile of his clothes, still lying on the floor.

 

 

 

“Honestly, Skye.” He tries to sound unimpressed, but he knows that all he manages is sleepy contentment.

 

 

 

“Incentive for you not to leave a mess for the cleaners.” Skye doesn’t bother opening her eyes as she says it, but her lips curve into a drowsy smile. Grant lies and listens to her breathing even out, lulling him into a half doze.

 

 

 

“Hey Skye?” Grant’s suddenly seized with an urgent need to do or say anything to stop her getting up and walking out of the door the instant that he falls asleep. He has no idea why the thought concerns him so much. “Do you like pancakes?” The question’s out there before he really has time to think it through. Skye barely seems to register it though, just shrugs one shoulder and gives him a sleepy half-smile without even opening her eyes. He’s obviously coming down with something because he asks for a second time.

 

 

 

“This your version of offering me dinner?” Skye burrows more firmly against him, slipping one leg between his and curving an arm around his waist. She still doesn’t look at him.

 

 

 

“Breakfast actually.” He wonders if he sounds as nervous as he feels.

 

 

 

“Oh.” Skye actually opens her eyes at that, pulling her head off his arm so that she can look at his face. Her expression is unreadable and there’s a long moment when he thinks he has, once again, forgotten how to breathe. She narrows her eyes at him. “You got maple syrup?”

 

 

 

Grant tries really hard to fight the grin that’s threatening to take over his face as he nods and murmurs a noise in the affirmative.

 

 

 

“Okay then.” Skye nods as though it’s nothing. As though she hasn’t just agreed to spend the night with him. Grant tries his hardest not to feel smug about it, but it’s a losing battle, knowing that he’s going to wake up with Skye next to him. He’s just beginning to drift off to sleep as Skye’s voice startles him awake. “You’d better have a box of condoms in this bedside table or we’re going to be having strong words when I wake up.”

 

 

 

Grant finally falls asleep to the sound of Skye’s breathing, with her body pressed warmly up against his side.

 


End file.
